THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 


long  as  you  stay  within  the  law  it  makes  no  difference 
how  many  hearts  you  break!"     MAKY  SHERMAN 


The  Case  of  Mary  Sherman 

A  NOVEL 

$y 
JASPER  EWING  BRADY 


Illustrated  by 
CHARLES  F.  LESTER 


New  York 
Britton  Publishing  Company 


Copyright.  1917 

by 
Britten  Publishing  Company.  Inc. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


To  My  Wife 

MARJORIE  SHOALS  BRADY 
I  Affectionately  Dedicate  This  Book 


2134209 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  ELECTION  OF  DR.  ANDERSON    .    .  11 

II.  "BiG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY 19 

III.  A  MOMENTOUS  DECISION 33 

IV.  ARRIVAL  OF  THE  NEW  BISHOP  ....  42 
V.  THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR 50 

VI.  NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE 60 

VII.  THE  MASS  MEETING 74 

VIII.  THE  APPROACHING  STORM 84 

IX.  MR.  CATON  DISAPPEARS 90 

X.  THE  BISHOP  ATTENDS  A  BALL  GAME    .  101 

XI.  KEARNEY  REPORTS  TO  His  CHIEF  .    .     .  107 

XII.  THE  BISHOP'S  RECORD 117 

XIII.  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MARY  SHERMAN  .     .     .  125 

XIV.  MEETING  OF  THE  TITANS 136 

XV.  A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED 146 

XVI.  CAPTAIN  JOHN  ANDERSON 156 

XVII.  BROTHERS  PLAN  NEW  BATTLES    .    .     .  166 

XVIII.  AT  THE  BISHOP'S  HOME 176 

XIX.  AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE 181 

XX.  A  MOTHER'S  WAY 194 

XXI.  BROTHERS  CONFIDE  203 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOE 

XXII.  JACK  LEAVES  FOR  PARTS  UNKNOWN  .    .  213 

XXIIL  A  CERTAIN  ''HOWARD  RAYMOND"  .    .  218 

XXIV.  THE  MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    .  230 

XXV.  CAPTAIN  ANDERSON  's  REPORT  ....  242 

XXVI.  THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  ....  251 

XXVII.  THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  ....  270 

XXVIII.    PELHAM  vs.  PELHAM 283 

XXIX.  MARY  SHERMAN  TELLS  HER  STORY  .    .  295 

XXX.  CAPTAIN  ANDERSON  TO  THE  RESCUE  .    .  306 

XXXI.  A  COMPLETE  EXHONERATION  ....  316 

XXXII.  THE  HATCHET  BURIED  .  327 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"So  long  as  you  stay  within  the  law  it  makes  no 
difference  how  many  hearts  you  break!"- 
Mary  Sherman Frontispiece 

Facing  Page 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,  I'll  consent,  but  I  want  it 
distinctly  understood  that  everything  we  do 
must  be  open  and  above  board." 72 

"Stop  it,  right  now,  Hank! — or  I'll —  Right 
here  a  slight,  blue-robed  and  lace-capped  little 
white-haired  woman  came  between  the  two 
strong  men 192 

"Suppose  I  had  a  daughter,"  repeated  Dudley — 
a  tenderness  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  gazed  at 
the  child-like  face  in  the  paper-weight 284 


THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 
CHAPTER  I 

THE   ELECTION    OF   DR.    ANDERSON 

"I  NOMINATE  the  Reverend  Henry  Trumbull 
Anderson,  Doctor  of  Divinity,  and  Rector  of  St. 
George's  Parish,  Hillsburg,  for  Bishop  of  the 
Diocese  of  Presidio." 

The  speaker  of  these  words  had  made  a  shrewd 
calculation.  He  looked  around  him  with  utter 
coolness,  smiling,  as  he  witnessed  the  growing  ex 
citement.  The  long  session  was  about  to  end. 

"Who  is  this  Dr.  Anderson?" 

The  question  was  practically  universal,  for 
Presidio  was  all  of  two  thousand  miles  from  the 
Pennsylvania  city.  The  doubt  was  quickly  set 
tled  by  the  Rev.  Julius  Schott,  rector  of  St. 
James'  Parish,  who  knew  him  well.  In  a  jiffy 
he  was  on  his  feet  to  second  the  nomination. 

"I    know    Dr.    Anderson    personally,"    said 

ii 


12    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

he,  "and  what  my  good  brother,  Mr.  Spencer,  has 
said  of  him,  is  true.  There  is  no  need  down  East 
to  ask  the  question — 'who  is  Dr.  Anderson?' 
His  magnetic  eloquence,  his  untiring  zeal,  his 
broad-mindedness  .  .  .  these  have  made  him  a 
great  leader  of  men.  He  was  reared  in  the 
boundless  West,  but  was  called  East  a  few  years 
ago.  He  knows  our  people  and  their  ways.  We 
need  him.  Let  us  call  him  back  home,  where, 
under  the  divine  guidance  of  an  Almighty  God, 
he  will  make  the  diocese  of  Presidio  one  of  the 
foremost  in  the  church." 

When  the  Rev.  Schott  took  his  seat  there  was 
a  moment's  silence — then  the  great  room  burst 
into  an  uproar.  The  friends  of  the  rival  candi 
date,  Dr.  Lamb,  sprang  up,  demanding  that  the 
convention  delay  over  night  in  making  so  mo 
mentous  a  decision.  Lowe,  the  floor  leader, 
glanced  around  for  a  certain  Mr.  Kearney,  but 
that  astute  gentleman  was  not  present  at  the  mo 
ment,  whereupon  he  made  another  motion  to  ad 
journ.  This  also  was  voted  down. 

Mr.  Spencer  had  solved  the  real  problem  by 
bringing  forth  a  dark  horse,  thus  easing  the  ten 
der  feelings  of  the  other  candidates.  The  pre 
siding  officer,  the  venerable  and  white-haired 
Bishop  Turnelr,  had  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  in  his  heart 


THE  ELECTION  OF  DR.  ANDERSON    13 

during  the  whole  of  Spencer's  speech.  He  had 
nodded  his  head  approvingly  when  Dr.  Ander 
son's  name  was  placed  in  nomination,  watched 
eagerly  for  the  "second,"  and,  before  the  ballot 
ing  began,  faced  the  altar  and  raised  his  hands 
in  prayer.  He  fervently  implored  the  Almighty 
to  guide  the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  delegates  in 
the  way  that  was  right. 

The  scene  was  an  impressive  one.  It  created 
an  atmosphere  of  old-time  sincerity  long  since 
lacking  in  the  affairs  of  the  good  old  church.  The 
sun  was  setting  in  the  stillness  of  the  early  spring 
evening.  Through  a  stained  glass  window  came 
a  brilliant  ray,  which  cast  a  halo  of  glory  over  the 
patriarchal  bishop,  as  he  stood  there  waiting. 
One  by  one  the  delegates  came  forward  to  the 
chancel  rail  and  cast  their  ballots.  Then  came 
the  stirring  event — the  counting  of  the  votes. 
Even  Bishop  Turner's  voice  was  surcharged  with 
emotion,  as  he  stepped  to  the  rail  and  announced 
the  result. 

"Dr.  Anderson — lay  votes,  fifty-seven — cleri 
cal,  twenty — total,  seventy-seven,"  he  said  im 
pressively;  and,  in  a  lower  tone,  "Dr.  Lamb — lay 
votes,  three — clerical,  three — total,  six." 

The  sigh  of  relief  which  followed  was  most 
expressive  of  the  strain  under  which  the  entire 


14    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

convention  had  worked.  Only  the  upraised  hand 
of  the  speaker  restrained  the  cheer  that  was 
about  to  burst  forth  in  the  church. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  continued,  "you  have  elected 
Dr.  Anderson  your  bishop,  and  you  have  done 
wisely.  Presidio,  with  its  commanding  geo 
graphical  position,  needs  such  a  man.  A  woeful 
lack  of  interest  has  been  shown  for  the  past  few 
years  in  the  church.  Even  the  ladies  have  lost 
heart  in  the  conduct  of  their  auxiliaries  and 
guilds.  St.  Clement's  Cathedral — the  very  build 
ing  we  are  meeting  in — is  in  a  deplorable  condi 
tion.  The  pipe  organ  needs  repairs,  and  the 
church  fittings  are  sadly  in  need  of  attention. 
The  only  redeeming  feature  is  the  bishop's  resi 
dence.  That  building,  as  you  know,  is  a  large, 
roomy,  comfortable  place,  but  do  you  know  that 
it  is  mortgaged  to  the  last  dollar?  The  entire  dio 
cese  is  burdened  with  a  debt  that  should  be  lifted 
immediately,  and  if  there  is  one  man  in  this  coun 
try  capable  of  doing  the  work  needed  here  it  is 
Dr.  Anderson." 

Again  he  lifted  a  restraining  hand. 

"Why,  gentlemen,"  he  continued,  rising  to  his 
full  height  and  looking  toward  the  door,  which 
had  just  opened  to  admit  the  Mr.  Kearney  whom 
the  supporters  of  Dr.  Lamb  had  looked  for — "the 


THE  ELECTION  OF  DR.  ANDERSON    15 

only  time  this  cathedral  has  housed  a  congre 
gation  of  respectable  size  during  recent  years, 
was  at  the  funeral  of  the  late  bishop.  To-day  a 
lady  remarked  to  me,  'The  only  way  Dr.  Axtell 
could  get  a  crowd  in  his  cathedral  was  to  die!' ' 

The  bishop  paused  a  moment  so  that  his  audi 
tors  could  catch  their  breath,  and  then  proceeded : 

"Now,  gentlemen  of  the  convention,  you  have 
elected  a  man  who  will  not  suffer  such  a  condition 
of  affairs  to  continue  for  long.  The  new  bishop 
of  Presidio  is  a  man  of  blood  and  iron,  a  man  of 
fire — totally  unafraid.  He  will  mould  this  dio 
cese  with  its  conflicting  elements,  its  warring  in 
terests,  into  a  harmonious  whole.  He  will  work 
on  Highdays,  Weekdays,  Holidays,  Sundays— 
for  the  benefit  of  all.  You  are,  indeed,  fortunate, 
and  I  congratulate  you.  There  being  no  further 
business  in  order,  I  declare  this  convention  ad 
journed  without  date,  but  before  I  pronounce  the 
benediction,  I  ask  you  all  to  join  in  singing  the 
Doxology." 

Never  before  in  the  history  of  St.  Clement's 
had  this  old  song  of  praise  been  sung  with  such 
fervor.  It  sounded  more  like  a  long  cheer,  and, 
as  the  church  rang  with  the  echoes,  Kearney 
threw  his  cigar  behind  him,  and  rushed  over  to 
where  Lowe  was  standing. 


16    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  asked  in  an  excited 
whisper,  not  waiting  for  the  benediction  to  close. 

"Nothing  much,"  replied  Lowe.  "They've 
just  elected  a  new  bishop — that  is  all." 

"Elected  a  new  bishop !" 

Kearney  gasped  in  astonishment. 

"Who?    Lamb?" 

"No — a  chap  from  Pennsylvania — I  looked  for 
you  a  moment  ago  to  tell  you  that  things  were 
going  against  us,  but  you  were  out  and  I  had  to 
let  them  win  the  battle." 

"I  was  talking  to  Dudley.  What  is  the  new 
bishop's  name  ?" 

"Anderson.    They  say  he's  a  fighter,  too." 

Lowe  outlined  all  that  happened  when  they 
reached  the  open  air.  Kearney  was  completely 
taken  by  surprise. 

"Well,  I'll  be "  he  stopped  short.  "The 

chief  will  go  crazy.  He's  set  his  heart  on  putting 
Lamb  in,  and  he  isn't  used  to  defeat." 

Shaking  his  head  skeptically,  he  went  to  the 
telephone. 

"Hello — is  that  you,  Jim? — the  convention  has 
just  adjourned." 

"Good!"  was  the  answer.  "We'll  get  them  to 
morrow.  I've  just  wired  Lamb  to  come  on." 

"Better  send  him  another  to  stay  where  he  is." 


THE  ELECTION  OF  DR.  ANDERSON    17 

"What  do  you  mean?  Why,  you  said  a  half- 
hour  ago  that  you  were  sure  Lowe  would  secure 
a  delay  until  to-morrow.  I'm  going  to  bring 
more  pressure  to  bear.  I'm " 

Kearney  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"But  the  convention  will  not  meet  to-morrow. 
It's  finished.  They've  elected  their  bishop — 
locked  up  the  place  and  skedaddled.  Schott  and 
St.  Clair  both  bolted  for  this  new  man." 

"Schott  and  St.  Clair.  No!  But  who  in  blazes 
is  the  man  they  elected?" 

"A  Dr.  Anderson,  of  Hillsburg,  Pennsyl 
vania." 

"Who  the  deuce  is  Anderson?" 

"Dunno  much.  Tell  you  more  about  him  when 
I  get  down  to  the  office." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  And  then  the 
wires  rang  with  anathemas  from  the  chief. 

"Oh,  they  have  elected  their  bishop,  have  they? 
Well,  the  fight  hasn't  begun  yet.  They  may 
think  so,  but  I'm  not  accustomed  to  being  dic 
tated  to.  I'll  put  Lamb  in  there  or  know  the  rea 
son  why." 

Kearney  was  used  to  these  outbursts;  he 
waited  patiently. 

"Come  down  to  the  office  immediately,"  was 
the  command.  The  sudden  clicking  of  the  re- 


18    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

ceiver  gave  a  sort  of  snap  to  the  order,  and  Kear 
ney  strolled  away  knowing  full  well  what  kind 
of  an  interview  awaited  him. 


CHAPTER  II 

"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY 

JAMES  BURCHARD  DUDLEY,  commonly  known 
as  "Big  Chief,"  editor  and  proprietor  of  Pre 
sidio's  most  powerful  newspaper,  The  Morning 
Banner,  was  a  man  who  had  risen  from  the  very 
bottom  of  the  ladder  to  the  top.  Twenty-five 
years  before  when  Presidio  was  only  a  small 
Western  town,  he  had  come  there  to  live.  He  was 
then  about  thirty  years  old,  had  a  few  thousands 
in  cash  and  absolute  belief  in  the  future  of  the 
great  West;  likewise,  an  unbounded  confidence 
in  himself.  Reared  on  a  West  Virginia  farm,  he 
tired  of  the  country  and  started  out  to  conquer 
the  world  through  the  cities.  His  first  qualifica 
tion  was  aggressiveness,  next  to  that  a  peculiar 
ability  to  write. 

His  first  stop — Cincinnati — gave  him  his 
chance,  for  there  he  secured  a  position  on  a  large 
paper.  His  progress  was  rapid.  His  money  was 

19 


20    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

as  safe  as  if  sewed  in  his  inside  pocket.  He  spent 
nothing,  and  foraged  upon  the  community  in 
which  he  found  himself.  When  other  men  with 
more  natural  ability  would  have  failed,  Dudley 
succeeded.  He  used  the  pronoun  "I"  frequently ; 
was  something  of  an  egotist,  but  the  main  thing 
was  that  he  succeeded.  In  two  years'  time  he  had 
not  only  made  a  decent  living  for  himself,  but  he 
had  added  another  thousand  or  two  to  his  savings. 

But  the  West  called  him,  and  the  boom  in  Pre 
sidio  settled  the  matter  of  location.  He  looked  it 
up  and  found  that  its  geographical  position  was 
ideal.  It  was  near  the  western  edge  of  the  coun 
try.  The  lands  about  were  rich  in  soil  and  min 
erals.  Railroads  must  necessarily  come  there. 
The  A.  N.  &  W.  was  already  there  with  all  four 
of  its  feet  in  the  trough — and  others  would  fol 
low.  With  the  railroads  must  come  people — then 
civilization — then  wealth. 

The  Banner -,  a  paper  with  no  politics  and  less 
principles,  afforded  him  his  first  job,  but  in  two 
years  Dudley  was  its  editor,  and  soon  thereafter, 
its  owner.  The  Banner  was  the  only  paper  in 
Presidio  having  an  Associated  Press  franchise, 
and  Dudley  well  knew  its  increasing  value. 
While  he  did  not  have  all  the  money  necessary  to 
pay  for  the  paper,  he  was  shrewd  in  placating  the 


"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  21 

banking  interests  of  the  city,  and  they  helped  him 
to  acquire  the  plant  from  cellar  to  garret.  Every 
dollar  of  this  loan  he  repaid.  He  vitalized  the 
paper  with  his  virile  personality  and  fought  on  all 
public  issues,  sometimes  right,  sometimes  wrong, 
but  the  main  idea  is  that  he  fought,  and  the 
fighter  always  gets  somewhere.  A  temporary  de 
feat  merely  meant  further  effort  to  succeed,  and 
thus  The  Banner  grew  until,  when  this  story 
opens,  it  boasted  a  circulation  equal  to  one  paper 
for  every  house  in  Presidio. 

In  addition  to  developing  his  paper,  Dudley 
invested  in  other  lines.  He  knew  that  real  estate 
as  a  foundation  of  a  fortune  is  impregnable,  and 
he  also  knew  that  Presidio  would  grow  towards 
the  hills.  This  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  for  the 
flat  districts  were  logically  the  part  to  be  turned 
over  to  business.  But  at  the  time  he  thought  of 
this,  very  few  others  had  done  the  same,  and  he 
was  able  to  buy  three  hundred  acres  of  land  on 
the  crags  and  peaks  for  almost  a  song.  When  he 
purchased  the  rocky  tract  it  was  considered  unfit 
for  anything  and  people  called  it  "Dudley's 
Folly."  Dudley,  however,  bided  his  time,  built 
himself  a  stately  home  away  up  on  the  highest 
rugged  hill  top  and  named  it  "Rocky  Crest."  It 
was  a  sort  of  emblem  of  the  man's  eternal  grit. 


22    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Then  the  town  grew,  people  did  begin  to  climb, 
as  Dudley  had  predicted.  He  improved  and  re 
stricted  the  neighborhood,  and  fixed  a  consider 
able  sum  as  a  standard  building  price  for  the 
homes  in  the  Rocky  Crest  section.  He  was 
bound  to  win.  In  twenty  years  he  had  made  as 
many  thousands  as  he  had  invested  hundreds. 

Presidio  was  at  the  time  the  story  opens  a  city 
of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  million  souls  and  rap 
idly  growing.  "Big  Chief"  Dudley — now  a  mul 
ti-millionaire — was  absolutely  in  control  of  its 
political  destiny.  His  newspaper  was  his  most 
direct  means  of  power,  but  his  personality  ex 
erted  a  dreaded  influence  through  a  hundred 
other  channels.  He  was  the  "Boss."  Political 
elections  were  decided  in  his  office.  Valuable 
franchises  were  his  for  the  asking.  Everyone 
was  afraid  of  him.  Through  use  of  money  and 
bulldog  tenacity  he  had  become  the  dictator  of 
Presidio,  brooking  no  interference  and  ruling 
with  a  rod  of  iron. 

There  were  two  other  papers  in  Presidio,  The 
Tribune,  and  The  Scimitar,  but  they  were  negli 
gible  quantities  because  of  Dudley's  control  of 
the  Associated  Press  franchise. 

Dudley,  now  a  man  of  between  fifty- five  and 
sixty  years,  was  very  short  and  stout,  with  a  fat, 


"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  23 

round  face,  iron-gray  hair,  and  a  bristling,  stubby 
mustache.  His  chin  had  tripled  itself  and  his 
hands  were  flabby.  To  see  him  sitting  in  the 
rear  seat  of  his  high-powered  automobile,  as  he 
came  dashing  downtown,  one  could  not  help  but 
remark  the  opulence  reflected  from  the  rear  cush 
ions.  The  scene  represented  the  very  obesity  of 
power.  Dudley  had  few  personal  friends — many 
sycophantic  followers — numberless  enemies- 
men,  who,  while  hating  him,  also  feared  him.  Be 
ing  a  widower,  he  lived  in  solitary  state  in  his 
mansion  on  the  hill. 

His  enemies  he  divided  into  three  classes — 
men  who  opposed  him  in  business  ventures — poli 
ticians  arrayed  against  him  in  campaigns— 
lastly,  personal  enemies.  The  first  two  he  could 
fight,  whip,  and  then  let  alone.  But  his  personal 
enemies  he  never  forgot  nor  forgave.  He  kept 
a  list  of  these;  people  called  it  his  "Index  Ex- 
purgatorius." 

It  was  a  wonder  that  the  citizens  of  Presidio 
had  not  risen  in  their  wrath  and  destroyed  the 
tyrant.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  the  peo 
ple  were  afraid  of  his  power.  There  had  never 
been  a  man  in  Presidio  who  had  either  the  cour 
age  or  the  desire  to  head  a  healthy  opposition  to 
Dudley.  Besides,  The  Banner  was  a  most  ex- 


24    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

cellent  paper — barring  the  personality  of  its  pro 
prietor.  As  a  disseminator  of  news  it  was  metro 
politan  in  character,  and  as  an  advertising  me 
dium  it  could  not  be  excelled.  Another  thing, 
Presidio's  citizens  were  busy  making  money  and 
developing  their  city.  It  was  growing  by  leaps 
and  bounds  and  already  was  one  of  the  most  ag 
gressive  communities  in  the  country. 

Dudley,  in  spite  of  his  defects,  possessed  quali 
ties  that  were  not  to  be  ignored.  For  one  thing, 
he  loved  his  city  and  worked  early  and  late  for 
its  betterment.  It  was  due  to  him  that  Presidio 
had  great,  wide  avenues,  fine  public  buildings  and 
many  parks.  Dudley's  dream  was  a  marvelous 
city  of  the  future,  and,  although  he  went  about  it 
in  a  way  that  was  not  generally  regarded  as  an 
ethical  one,  yet  he  was  convinced  he  was  right, 
and  merely  laughed  at  the  men  who  opposed  him. 

His  position  in  Presidio  was  certain,  and  re 
former  after  reformer  "bit  the  dust,"  as  he 
phrased  it.  Under  his  skin  the  American  citi 
zen  is  peace-loving,  and  Dudley  appealed  to  this 
sense.  Though  his  iron-bound  rule  brought  many 
hardships  it  was  good  for  business,  and  it  steadied 
the  life  of  the  city  as  nothing  else  could  have 
done.  A  leader  of  this  sort  may  not  be  all  that 
could  be  desired,  but  there  is  no  denying  that  he  is 


"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  25 

a  leader  and  a  powerful  one.  His  fingers  are 
stuck  in  every  pie.  His  hands  reach  forth  into  the 
outermost  edges  of  political  life.  He  dictates 
elections.  He  controls  parties.  In  the  case  of 
Dudley  his  great  wealth  and  his  powerful  paper 
were  his  principal  tools,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether 
he  depended  more  upon  them  than  on  his  own 
strong  character. 

One  of  the  things  which  had  interested  him 
from  the  start  was  the  office  of  the  bishop  of  Pre 
sidio.  This  diocese  had  been  under  a  certain  Dr. 
Axtell,  a  fine  old  man  of  the  old  school  who 
lacked  initiative  and  spirit.  As  the  convention 
had  not  provided  him  with  assistants,  he  had  al 
lowed  matters  to  drift  until  the  diocese  became 
weighted  with  useless  debts  and  its  people  lost 
interest.  The  bishop  had  been  unable  to  rectify 
matters  and  had  been  forced  to  see  his  beloved 
charge  slip  into  the  terrible  condition  in  which 
it  was  found  after  his  death.  Because  of  this 
there  had  been  a  universal  demand  for  a  bishop 
who  could  do  things  ...  a  man  of  vision  and 
power.  Several  names  had  been  presented  to  the 
convention,  but  it  had  not  become  interested  until 
the  name  of  Anderson  had  been  announced. 

Dudley  had  watched  events  with  close  interest. 
He  had  selected  a  certain  Dr.  Lamb,  at  this  time 


26    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

serving  as  the  Missionary  Bishop  of  a  far  West 
ern  state.  Dr.  Lamb  had  once  been  the  rector  of 
St.  James'  parish,  Presidio,  and  was  well  liked  by 
the  social  element.  But  he  was  not  a  man  of 
force.  Far  too  convivial  for  the  higher  efficiency, 
he  loved  society  with  all  its  frills,  seemingly  much 
better  than  he  loved  the  work  of  the  church. 
Dudley  knew  all  this,  but  had  planned  to  control 
him,  and  thus  obtain  a  new  means  of  power  over 
a  long-suffering  community.  But  he  had  reck 
oned  without  his  host. 

He  wanted  him  for  several  reasons ;  in  fact,  had 
promised  the  position  to  him,  and  Jim  Dudley 
always  redeemed  his  promises  .  .  .  that  is,  al 
most  always.  But  this  time  the  field  of  opera 
tions  was  more  difficult.  Religion  was  not  the 
same  as  politics  and  it  proved  a  greater  problem 
than  he  imagined.  Of  course,  the  "Big  Chief" 
did  not  attend  the  convention;  he  was  far  too  wise 
for  that.  He  thought  he  could  handle  matters  the 
same  as  he  did  in  city  councils  and  other 
bodies  .  .  .  just  issue  orders  and  let  his  hench 
men  do  the  work,  himself  to  be  content  with  the 
power  behind  the  throne.  His  chief  henchman, 
Patrick  J.  Kearney,  a  thoroughly  competent  and 
dependable  man,  and  his  confidential  agent,  had 
been  selected  to  do  the  work  on  the  floor. 


"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  27 

About  half  way  through  the  day's  session, 
which  had  resulted  in  Anderson's  election,  Kear 
ney  had  called  his  chief  to  the  wire. 

"Things  dead-locked  out  here,  Jim.  Doesn't 
seem  to  be  any  chance  of  doing  anything.  Every 
one  tired  out." 

"Never  mind,  Kearney,"  came  back  Dudley's 
voice  in  gruff  tones.  "Tell  Lowe  to  hold  fast.  If 
the  delegates  are  tired,  now  is  the  chance  to  stam 
pede  them  to  Lamb.  Have  some  one  get  up  and 
make  a  rip-snorting  speech.  It's  the  psychologi 
cal  moment.  We'll  win,  I  tell  you." 

"All  right,  Jim.  I'll  see  what  I  can  do.  Good 
bye." 

Dudley  had  truly  spoken — it  was  the  psycho 
logical  instant.  Five  minutes  later  Anderson 
was  elected.  And  when  Dudley  received  this 
news  he  flew  into  one  of  those  ungovernable  rages 
for  which  he  was  distinguished. 

"True,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  don't  give  a 
hang  about  Lamb  or  the  church,  but  it  is  just  this 
idea  of  being  licked.  A  prairie  fire  starts  from 
a  small  blaze.  So  might  Presidio  become  imbued 
with  the  idea  they  can  beat  me.  And  that  would 
never,  never  do." 

Jim  Dudley  sat  in  his  richly  furnished  office — 
always  fastidious  in  his  tastes — and  waited  im- 


28    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

patiently  for  Kearney.  That  worthy  took  his 
time  returning  to  the  chief.  He  knew  what 
awaited  him,  and  he  decided  to  let  Dudley  cool 
off  a  bit  before  he  appeared.  For  years  he  had 
been  associated  with  him,  and  he  was  the  one  man 
who  did  not  fear  him.  He  disliked  quarreling, 
and  had  bitterly  objected  to  the  chief's  mixing 
in  religious  politics.  When  he  entered  the  office, 
Dudley  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"Well!  you  got  your  licking,  eh?" 

"Who,  me?"  grinned  Kearney.  "Oh,  I  don't 
know.  Maybe  it  was  somebody  else  who  got 
licked— huh?" 

Kearney  was  Irish  with  a  saving  sense  of 
humor.  Although  he  was  Dudley's  right-hand 
man  and  in  his  pay,  he  preserved  that  independ 
ence  of  thought  so  typical  of  his  race.  He  was  the 
one  man  Dudley  could  not  bluff. 

"No,  not  you,"  growled  the  chief,  whose  voice, 
always  sharp,  was  now  rasping.  "What  about 
this  convention?  Tell  me  all  you  know." 

"Nothing  about  it,"  tersely  answered  Kearney, 
biting  off  the  end  of  a  cigar  and  lighting  it.  "I 
told  you  over  the  'phone  they  had  elected  a  bishop 
and — it — wasn't — Lamb.  That's  all." 

Dudley,  by  this  time,  had  flown  into  a  second 
rage. 


"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  29 

"No,  it's  not  all,"  he  thundered.  "Who  did  it 
• — and  how  ?  You  'phoned  that  the  delegates  were 
tired  out  and  ready  to  quit.  A  short  while  later 
you  'phoned  again  saying  they  elected  this  .  .  . 
this  .  .  .  what  the  deuce  is  his  name?" 

"Anderson." 

"Yes,  Anderson." 

"Well,  Jim,  that's  just  what  they  did.  After  I 
first  'phoned  you  I  was  having  a  quiet  smoke  out 
side  and  ruminating  on  the  blamed  foolishness  of 
your  mixing  up  in  a  fight  that  did  not  concern 
you,  and  from  which  you  could  derive  no  possible 
benefit,  when  all  at  once  I  heard  a  big  racket  in 
side.  It  sounded  queer,  and  I  went  in  to  see  what 
was  going  on.  It  was  queer,  all  right,  for  they 
had  finished  their  work  and  were  listening  to  a 
talk  by  the  presiding  officer.  Lowe  gave  me  the 
details  afterwards." 

Kearney  then  related  all  he  knew,  adding: 
"I'm  glad  it  is  all  over.  I  don't  fancy  church 
work,  it's  not  our  game.  I'm  not  sorry  you're 
licked." 

"Licked!  Who  says  I'm  licked?"  shouted 
Dudley.  "This  Anderson  is  elected,  but  he  isn't 
consecrated  yet,  and  he  shall  not  be  if  I  can  help 
it." 

"Cut  it  out,  Jim.    We've  got  all  we  can  handle 


30     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

in  this  franchise  fight.  Besides,  Anderson  may 
be  just  the  man  you  want.  You  don't  know  him 
and  one  can  never  tell." 

"No  .  .  .  and  I  don't  want  to  know  him.  He 
may  be  a  saint,  but  I  said  Lamb,  and  I  want 
Lamb!"  Always  the  eternal  "I"  with  Dudley. 

"All  right,"  answered  Kearney.  "It's  your 
funeral  and  not  mine.  So,  go  to  it." 

"You  bet  I  will,"  snapped  Dudley. 

He  knew  that  before  Dr.  Anderson  could  be 
consecrated  in  his  new  position  as  bishop  of  Pre 
sidio,  his  election  must  be  confirmed  by  the  House 
of  Bishops,  and  there  was  a  great  number  in  this 
house,  representing,  as  they  did,  the  general 
church  of  America.  Dudley  would  attack  him 
there.  He  realized  that  big  and  powerful  as  he 
was,  he  could  not  afford  to  attack  Dr.  Anderson 
through  The  Banner.  He  was  entirely  too  wise 
to  become  embroiled  in  a  church  controversy,  but 
he  could,  and  did,  use  certain  methods  at  which 
he  was  the  master  hand. 

His  first  procedure  was  to  dictate  a  letter  to 
every  bishop  voting  in  the  house,  in  each  of 
which  was  stated  that  Dr.  Anderson's  elec 
tion  was  a  mistake;  that  it  was  rushed  through 
by  highhanded  methods;  that  the  real  senti 
ment  of  the  diocese,  lay  and  clerical,  was 


"BIG  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  31 

against  the  bishop-elect ;  also  that  the  new  bishop^ 
would  never  be  able  to  mould  the  widely  sepa 
rated  units  of  the  torn  diocese  into  a  good  work 
ing  organization,  a  matter  of  supreme  necessity 
for  the  good  of  the  church.  On  the  other  hand, 
Dr.  Lamb  was  well  known,  had  once  been  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Clericus  of  Presidio  .  .  .  and,  besides, 
he  enjoyed  great  social  prestige  which  would  help 
him  in  the  work. 

Dudley  made  one  tremendous  mistake,  a  not 
unusual  circumstance  for  men  of  his  calibre.  He 
sent  a  letter  containing  his  views  to  Bishop 
Turner,  who  had  presided  over  the  Presidio  con 
vention,  and  who,  by  virtue  of  his  rank,  would  also 
preside  over  the  House  of  Bishops.  It  so  hap 
pened  that  Bishop  Turner's  diocese  adjoined 
Presidio  on  the  south,  and  the  good  bishop  knew 
conditions  better  than  most  men.  Also  he  knew 
Dudley,  and,  likewise,  Dr.  Anderson.  It  was 
under  Bishop  Turner's  tutelage  that  Dr.  Ander 
son  had  taken  his  holy  orders,  first  of  the  dioco- 
nate,  and  then  the  priesthood.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Bishop  Turner  had  suggested  to  the  Rev 
erend  Spencer  the  idea  of  presenting  Dr.  Ander 
son's  name. 

Even  churchmen  must  play  at  politics  once  in 
a  while,  so  Bishop  Turner,  after  receiving  Dud- 


32    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

ley's  letter,  immediately  became  a  very  busy  man, 
and  wrote  a  personal  communication  to  every 
bishop,  setting  forth  the  real  facts  of  the  case,  and 
urging  confirmation  of  Dr.  Anderson's  election. 
In  point  of  service  Bishop  Turner  was  the  ablest 
in  the  country.  His  diocese  was  as  good  as  Pre 
sidio's  was  bad,  and  he  knew  that  Dr.  Anderson 
was  the  man  for  Presidio.  He  could  and  would 
redeem  the  lost  prestige — something  that  Dr. 
Lamb  never  could  have  done.  The  fight  waxed 
to  a  bitter  finish,  resulting  finally  in  the  complete 
defeat  of  the  "Big  Chief."  The  House  of  Bish 
ops  met,  and  the  election  of  the  new  bishop  was 
confirmed  by  unanimous  consent. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   MOMENTOUS  DECISION 

ALL  during  the  fight  waged  against  him  in  Pre 
sidio,  Dr.  Anderson,  the  innocent  cause  of  Dud 
ley's  wrath,  pursued  the  even  tenor  of  his  every 
day  life  in  the  rectory  at  Hillsburg,  in  far  away 
Pennsylvania.  In  stature  he  presented  an  un 
usually  fine  type  of  physical  manhood.  Six  feet 
two  in  his  stockings,  weight  well  above  two  hun 
dred,  muscular,  athletic,  iron-gray  hair,  spark 
ling,  bluish  eyes,  a  large  mouth,  well  filled  with 
strong  teeth — he  looked  aggressive,  and  he  was. 
He  carried  his  fifty-two  years  most  gracefully, 
and  was  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 

His  church  was  a  magnificent  structure,  abso 
lutely  free  from  debt,  and  his  salary  was  more 
than  satisfactory,  considering  the  comfortable 
rectory,  which  he  occupied  with  his  wife,  and  a 
son  aged  ten.  There  were  other  children,  five  of 
them,  making  six  in  all;  one  a  civil  engineer  in 

33 


34    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

South  America,  another  an  officer  of  the  United 
States  Army,  two  daughters  in  a  fashionable 
school  in  Philadelphia,  and  one  married  daughter 
living  in  the  central  West.  And,  besides,  the 
good  doctor  was  a  grandfather,  although  he 
didn't  look  it.  All  things  considered,  Dr.  Ander 
son  had  every  reason  to  be  satisfied,  since,  in  ad 
dition  to  all  of  the  blessings  referred  to,  he  had 
become  a  celebrated  author,  and  his  novels,  stir 
ring  tales  of  the  army,  navy  and  western  life, 
were  widely  read,  and  brought  in  a  handsome  in 
come  on  the  side.  In  every  sense  of  the  word  his 
life  was  a  happy  one. 

"  But  life  cannot  be  "all  beer  and  skittles,"  and 
one  night  as  the  good  doctor  sat  smoking,  his 
mind  ruminated  over  the  things  with  which  he 
came  in  daily  contact,  that  very  day  for  instance, 
he  had  baptized  an  infant  at  ten  o'clock,  married 
a  couple  at  two,  and  buried  an  old  parishioner  at 
four. 

"The  entire  gamut  of  life  in  one  day,"  thought 
he,  "birth,  marriage,  and  death."  Here  his 
thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  knock  of  a 
neatly  dressed  maid. 

"A  telegram  for  you,  sir." 

"Thank  you,"  said  he,  breaking  the  seal  and 
hurriedly  glancing  over  its  contents.  Then  he  sat 


A  MOMENTOUS  DECISION          35 

bolt  upright  and  read  it  over  and  over  again.  It 
was  dated  at  Presidio  on  the  day  previous  and 
marked  "delayed  in  transmission."  It  read  as 
follows : 

"The  convention  of  the  diocese  of  Presidio  to 
day  elected  you  its  bishop.  I  regard  it  as  a  divine 
call  and  urge  you  take  no  action  until  you  receive 
my  letter,  which  will  go  forward  tonight." 

"(Signed)  TURNER,  Presiding  Bishop." 

Dr.  Anderson  was  astounded.  The  idea  of  a 
bishopric  had  never  entered  his  mind.  Several 
times  he  had  been  approached  on  the  subject  by 
small  dioceses,  but  had  always  declined.  He  was 
a  godly  man  and  a  thorough  churchman,  but, 
somehow,  the  idea  of  being  a  bishop  never  had  ap 
pealed  to  him.  He  loved  the  good  things  of  life, 
and  his  living  as  rector  of  St.  George's  was  bet 
ter  than  that  of  many  bishops — most  of  them,  in 
fact.  Not  that  Dr.  Anderson  was  a  slacker;  far 
from  it !  His  work  in  the  West  during  the  days 
of  his  dioconate  and  early  priesthood  had  proved 
his  fighting  qualities,  and  now  he  felt  that  he  had 
earned  the  sinecure  he  held  at  present,  and  he  was 
loath  to  give  it  up.  But  here  was  a  condition,  not 


36    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

a  theory  confronting  him.  Bishop  Turner's  re 
quest  that  he  should  not  take  action  until  his  let 
ter  was  received  caused  the  doctor  quite  a  little 
uneasiness,  because  he  had  more  respect  and  ven 
eration  for  Bishop  Turner  than  any  other  man 
in  the  church.  He  looked  up  to  him  as  a  son 
would  look  up  to  a  father.  At  this  juncture  his 
very  charming  wife  returned  from  a  shopping 
tour  and  found  him  so  absorbed  in  his  thoughts 
that  he  was  unaware  of  her  approach. 

"Tired,  dear?"  she  asked  sweetly,  as  she  kissed 
him. 

"No,  not  tired,  Helen,  just  thinking.  This 
message  came  a  few  minutes  ago." 

Unused  to  such  worldly  matters,  Mrs.  Ander 
son  took  up  the  telegram  wonderingly,  and  read 
it  through  more  than  once.  Amazed  at  its  con 
tents  she  finally  laid  it  on  his  desk.  Husband  and 
wife  gazed  at  each  other  for  many  long  moments 
before  either  spoke. 

"But  you  won't  accept  it,  will  you,  dear?" 
Mrs.  Anderson's  question  contained  a  more  than 
slight  tone  of  protest. 

"I  don't  know,  Helen.  If  I  consulted  my  own 
personal  feelings  and  our  comfort,  I  would  de 
cline  it  instantly,  but  there's  Bishop  Turner's  re 
quest  to  await  his  letter.  Bishop  Turner,  as  you 


37 

know,  dear,  is  a  leader  in  the  church,  and  I'm  a 
follower.  I  won't  make  a  snap  decision,  of  that 
you  may  be  sure." 

"Oh,  but  I  don't  want  to  leave  here,"  she  ex 
postulated.  "Everything  is  so  pleasant  and  com 
fortable,  and  the  girls  are  only  a  short  ride  from 
us.  And  Presidio,"  Mrs.  Anderson  shuddered; 
"ugh!  Presidio  is  away  out  West — the  jumping- 
off  place!" 

Dr.  Anderson  smiled ;  his  gentle  wife  was  East 
ern  born,  and  had  never  been  in  the  glorious 
West,  save  on  flying  trips  with  him.  She  could 
not  realize  that  people  were  people  wherever  they 
were,  nor  did  she  know  all  her  good  husband  knew 
about  the  condition  of  the  diocese  of  Presidio. 
Dr.  Anderson  was  well  informed  from  church  re 
ports,  and  from  correspondence  with  brother 
clergymen.  Had  she  known  what  he  knew,  her 
opposition  would  have  been  still  stronger. 

"Nonsense,  Helen,"  laughed  the  doctor; 
"you're  prejudiced  against  the  West.  Presidio 
is  a  splendid  city,  and  we  could  be  just  as  happy 
there  as  any  place.  Happiness  is  not  a  question 
of  locality,  rather  of  personality — of  ourselves." 

"Yes,  I  know,  Henry,  I  could  be  happy  with 
you  any  place  on  earth,  but " 

"There,  there,  dearest,  let's  not  discuss  it  any 


38    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

more.  We'll  wait  until  we  hear  from  Bishop 
Turner." 

"All  right,  we  will;"  picking  up  her  gloves,  she 
went  downstairs,  leaving  the  doctor  alone  with  his 
thoughts.  That  night  as  Helen  Anderson  slept 
she  had  a  dream — a  bad  one — and  that  dream 
spelled  "P— R— E— S— I— D— I— O." 

The  very  next  day  Bishop  Turner's  letter  came 
by  special  delivery.  It  reviewed  the  work  of  the 
Presidio  convention,  giving  all  details  leading  up 
to  Dr.  Anderson's  election,  and  wound  up  by  ad 
juring  him  to  accept.  "The  church  needs  you," 
was  the  substance  of  his  powerful  appeal.  Dr. 
Anderson,  being  a  churchman  first,  last,  and  all 
the  time,  was  "the  real  man  for  the  place."  But 
there  was  no  hurry.  It  would  take  time  for  the 
House  of  Bishops  to  act.  "Consider!  Consider, 
prayerfully,  consider  everything!"  were  the  last 
words  contained  in  the  letter. 

On  the  following  day,  and  every  day  there 
after,  came  more  letters — from  Spencer,  Schott, 
St.  Clair,  and  other  members  of  the  Clericus  of 
Presidio ;  from  lay  members,  there  and  elsewhere, 
praying  Dr.  Anderson  to  accept  and  lead  Pre 
sidio  out  of  the  wilderness.  Still  he  hesitated 
until  one  day  he  received  a  final  appeal  from 
Bishop  Turner,  enclosing  the  letter  he  had  re- 


A  MOMENTOUS  DECISION          39 

ceived  from  James  Burchard  Dudley,  who  was 
trying  to  defeat  the  action  of  the  Presidio  con 
vention.  Dr.  Anderson  did  not  know  Dudley, 
except  by  reputation;  but  as  Bishop  Turner  put 
it,  "here  is  an  outsider  trying  to  run  the  church." 
Dr.  Anderson  read  this  with  his  lips  tightly  closed 
into  a  grim,  straight  line,  and  then  he  went  to  a 
ball  game,  throughout  the  nine  innings  of  which 
he  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind  without 
knowing  at  any  time  how  the  score  stood.  After 
the  game  he  went  directly  to  a  telegraph  office 
and  sent  the  following  message  to  Bishop 
Turner : 

"If  my  election  is  confirmed,  I  will  accept  the 
post  as  Bishop  of  Presidio." 

It  was  long  after  the  evening  meal  was  over 
before  he  could  bring  himself  to  the  point  of  tell 
ing  his  wife  what  he  had  done.  He  had  been  so 
noncommunicative  on  the  subject  of  late  that  she 
had  almost  hoped  herself  into  the  belief  that  her 
bad  dream  was  nothing  but  a  nightmare  after  all. 
With  nearly  all  of  the  dread  feeling  obliterated 
she  was  almost  ready  to  believe  that  her  happiness 
vouTd  go  on  smoothly  to  the  end  of  her  days. 
Considering  this  state  of  mind,  the  shock,  dismay, 


40    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

and  sorrow,  rolled  into  one  bitter  pill  when  she 
heard  her  husband  say : 

"Helen,  I  have  accepted  the  call  to  Presidio." 

Mrs.  Anderson's  lip  quivered.  If  her  life  had 
depended  upon  it  she  could  not  have  held  back  the 
deep  sigh,  which  she  tried  to  suppress.  But  she 
was  a  bishop's  wife  now,  and  she  would  do  her 
part.  She  would  not  be  a  hold-back. 

"All  right,  dearest,"  she  replied  with  all  the 
cheerfulness  she  could  muster,  "you  know  best." 

Of  course,  the  wardens  and  vestrymen  of  St. 
George's  were  disappointed,  and  so  were  all  citi 
zens  of  Hillsburg,  because  Dr.  Anderson  was  uni 
versally  liked  by  everybody,  irrespective  of  race, 
color  or  creed.  They  protested  seriously,  and 
even  pointed  out  the  fact  that  his  salary  in  Pre 
sidio  would  be  a  few  thousand  per  year  less,  and 
whether  or  not  he  would  draw  his  salary  each 
month  would  depend  upon  his  own  ability  as  col 
lector,  as  the  diocesan  treasury  of  Presidio  was 
chronically  broke.  This  argument  was  soon 
found  to  be  without  merit. 

"There  are  other  things  besides  money,"  said 
he,  "I  must  go."  All  this  time  "Big  Chief"  Dud 
ley's  letter  reposed  in  his  pocket,  and  when  he 
thought  of  it,  his  jaws  came  together  with  a  snap. 


A  MOMENTOUS  DECISION          41 

The  House  of  Bishops  had  unanimously  con 
firmed  his  election;  therefore,  in  due  time,  the 
pretty  Hillsburg  rectory  was  dismantled,  and  a 
few  days  later  Bishop  Anderson,  his  wife  ancj 
their  youngest  son,  Bud,  arrived  in  Presidio.  In 
driving  from  the  depot  to  the  house  of  a  church 
man,  where,  with  his  family,  he  would  be  a  guest 
until  his  own  household  goods  arrived,  the  host 
pointed  out  many  points  of  interest,  among  oth 
ers,  a  massive  four-story  building  on  Main  Street, 
of  which  he  said : 

"That's  The  Banner  Building,  owned  by 
James  Burchard  Dudley." 

Dr.  Anderson  gazed  steadily  at  the  powerful 
structure,  so  typical  of  its  owner,  a  veritable  fast 
ness  of  strength  to  behold,  and  then  he  replied 
quietly : 

"Ah,  indeed.  I'm  quite  sure  I  have  heard  of 
the  gentleman.  He  builds  well.  I  must  get  ac 
quainted  with  him."  So  calm  and  collected  was 
the  new  bishop  that  his  host  looked  up  into  his 
mobile  face  in  perfect  wonderment.  Had  he  not 
heard?  Was  he  aware  of  what  he  was  saying? 
If  not,  a  great  awakening  awaited  him. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ARRIVAL   OF   THE   NEW   BISHOP 

SHORTLY  after  his  arrival  came  the  new  bish 
op's  consecration,  when  society  and  church  came 
out  in  state.  It  was  a  great  function  and  old 
St.  Clement's  was  crowded  to  the  doors  with  the 
best  people  of  Presidio,  also  many  came  from 
other  cities.  There  were  a  number  of  prominent 
churchmen,  bishops,  and  clericals,  headed  by  the 
venerable  Bishop  Turner,  who  conducted  the  cer 
emonies.  It  was  he  who  received  Dr.  Anderson 
and  consecrated  him  in  his  new  work,  and  the  new 
bishop  was  visibly  affected  by  his  tender  attitude. 
He  realized  full  well  the  tremendous  responsi 
bilities  now  resting  upon  his  shoulders,  and  on  the 
following  sabbath,  when  he  ascended  the  pulpit 
to  deliver  his  first  sermon,  every  eye  was  focussed 
upon  him.  Naturally,  his  fame  as  an  orator,  au 
thor  and  man  had  preceded  his  arrival,  and  much 

42 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  NEW  BISHOP    43 

was  expected  of  him.  With  this  in  mind  he  aban 
doned  the  usual  sermon  and  in  its  stead  delivered 
a  real  heart-to-heart  talk,  which  his  auditors  ac 
cepted  as  his  message.  He  told  them  just  what 
he  wanted  to  do,  how  he  wanted  to  do  it,  and  what 
part  the  communicants  of  the  church  would  have 
to  play  in  his  general  scheme  of  upbuilding  the 
diocese.  There  must  be  action,  and  constant 
striving  for  better  things.  He  realized  full  wrell 
his  shortcomings,  and  desired  the  hearty  and  ac 
tive  co-operation  of  every  member  of  the  church. 

"Too  long,"  said  he,  "has  the  diocese  of  Pre 
sidio  been  at  the  end  of  the  church  procession; 
the  time  has  now  come  for  it  to  move  forward." 

He  welcomed  the  co-operation  of  all  creeds  and 
classes  for  anything  looking  toward  the  better 
ment  of  the  city  of  Presidio  as  a  community.  He 
would  have  no  favorites  in  church  or  secular  af 
fairs  ;  he  took  things  as  he  found  them.  Every 
thing  must  be  open  and  above  board.  Healthy 
opposition  he  would  welcome,  because  always 
there  were  two  sides  to  a  question.  And  dis 
cussion  would  bring  out  the  facts.  In  clos 
ing  he  said:  "I  am  aware  that  there  was 
opposition  to  my  election,  but  that  was  to  be 
expected.  I  am  also  aware  that  even  after  my 
election,  which  was  legal,  churchly,  and  fair  in 


44    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

every  respect,  certain  letters  were  written  by  one 
of  your  most  prominent  citizens  to  various  bish 
ops,  making  statements  which  were  malignant, 
untrue,  and  vicious.  These  letters  were  sent  to 
prevent  my  confirmation." 

Every  eye  was  turned  to  the  speaker,  as  he 
faced  them — this  man  unafraid — who  had  openly 
dared  to  rebuke  the  redoubtable  "Big  Chief" 
Dudley  in  his  own  home  town. 

"I  hold  in  my  hand,"  continued  the  new  bishop 
in  measured  tones,  "one  of  those  letters,  and  I  de 
sire  to  say  now  so  that  all  may  hear  and  know,  J 
am  serving  my  God,  and  I  shall  wear  no  man's 
collar" 

Everybody  in  the  congregation  knew  what 
Bishop  Anderson  meant.  They  also  knew  ex 
actly  whom  he  meant,  it  was  his  intention  that 
they  should  know,  and  that  Mr.  Dudley  should 
know,  just  where  he  stood.  There  must  be  no  mis 
understanding,  and,  as  the  congregation  filed  out, 
there  was  a  rush  to  congratulate  him,  but  not  a 
few,  in  their  timid  hearts,  deprecated  his  attack 
on  the  "Big  Chief."  Why  start  a  fight?  They 
realized  that  a  man  had  come  "to  court,"  but  was 
he  really  looking  for  a  scrap  with  Dudley  the  first 
thing?  Dudley,  the  boss?  Dudley,  the  "Big 
Chief?"  No,  the  bishop  was  not  looking  for  a 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  NEW  BISHOP    45 

scrap  with  Dudley,  or  any  one  else.  He  was  for 
peace.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  wasn't  running 
away  from  anything.  He  was  merely  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  road  ready  to  act  offensively 
or  defensively  as  circumstances  decreed — that 
was  all. 

Of  course,  "Big  Chief"  Dudley  heard  of  this 
sermon,  though  he  was  not  present  in  person. 
Kearney  was  there  and  heard  and  saw.  Secretly, 
he  admired  the  courage  and  poise  of  the  man  who 
would  "beard  the  lion"  if  necessary,  but 
he  pitied  him  for  the  little  knowledge  he 
possessed  regarding  his  adversary.  Naturally, 
Dudley  would  grind  this  big  bishop  into  bits — 
when  the  time  came.  No  one  could  withstand 
the  onslaught  of  his  chief,  bishop  or  what  not. 
He'd  "eat  'em  alive  and  spit  'em  on  the  ground," 
—that  was  Kearney's  way  of  thinking.  In  due 
course,  Kearney  met  the  new  bishop.  The  meet 
ing  took  place  at  the  bishop's  church,  just  after 
service,  and  Kearney  received  a  hearty  welcome. 

"Glad,  indeed,  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Kearney.  I 
hope  you  will  come  often."  There  was  no  doubt 
in  Kearney's  mind  of  the  bishop's  sincerity. 

"Dunno,  Bishop,"  smiled  Kearney,  returning 
his  firm  handshake.  "I  work  for  Mr.  Dudley." 

"Oh,  for  Mr.  Dudley,  of  The  Banner!    Good! 


46    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 
Come  out  again,  and  .bring  Mr.  Dudley  with 

you." 

As  Kearney  walked  away  he  was  almost  con 
vulsed — the  idea  of  Jim  Dudley  ever  hearing 
Bishop  Anderson  preach,  especially  after  he 
learned  of  the  sermon  of  this  particular  morning ! 
When  he  reached  The  Banner  office,  Dudley  was 
busy  with  callers,  so  Kearney  bided  his  time. 
When,  finally,  he  did  get  to  the  "Big  Chief,"  he 
found  some  one  had  preceded  him  with  the  news. 
Kearney  wasn't  sorry,  he  disliked  the  role  of  tale 
bearer;  it  was  against  his  nature.  Dudley  was 
roaring  mad. 

"Kearney!"  he  shouted,  as  his  right-hand  man 
came  in  view,  "did  you  hear  what  that  new  bishop 
said  this  morning?  Gave  me  the  devil  from  the 
pulpit." 

"Sure,  I  heard  it,"  said  Kearney.  "The  pul 
pit's  the  proper  place  to  'give  a  man  the  devil,' ' 

"You  heard  it!    How?" 

"Oh,  I  was  there;  had  nothing  else  to  do,  so 
just  strolled  out  to  see  the  new  bishop." 

"You  heard  him?"  Dudley  couldn't  compre 
hend  it. 

"That's  what  I  said,  Jim;  I  heard  him  say  he 
wouldn't  hesitate  to  give  it  to  you  or  any  one  else 
when  the  occasion  demanded.  And  do  you 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  NEW  BISHOP    47 

know  I  believe  he'd  do  it.  Looks  to  me  as  if  he 
was  a  real  man,  different  from  most  bishops  I've 
ever  met." 

Dudley  gazed  at  Kearney  in  astonishment. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  growled,  "are  you 
sticking  up  for  this  bishop?"  Dudley's  fat  face 
was  fast  becoming  purple. 

"Naw,"  answered  the  imperturbable  Kearney, 
"not  sticking  up  for  him  at  all.  He  doesn't  need 
any  one  to  do  that.  I'm  just  telling  you  some 
thing.  You  had  one  coming  to  you  for  mixing  up 
in  this  church  scrap.  All  he  did  was  to  read  one 
of  those  letters  you  wrote." 

"He  did,"  roared  Dudley.  "He  did,  eh? 
Well,  I'll- 

"What'll  you  do ?"  interjected  Kearney.  "Try 
to  raise  a  rumpus  by  bucking  a  church?  You 
can't  do  that.  No,  not  even  you,  Dudley.  You 
only  got  what  was  coming  to  you,  and  I  hope  it 
teaches  you  a  lesson." 

"You  talk  like  you're  in  love  with  the  man." 

"I  dunno,  but  what  I  am,  Jim;  he's  the  only 
man  in  Presidio  that  ever  dared  to  tell  people 
where  he  stands  without  consulting  you  first. 
I  believe  he'd  fight  at  the  drop  of  the  hat." 

"Well,  you  keep  away  from  him  after  this." 


48    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

The  "Big  Chief"  gave  his  head  a  jerk,  as  if  to 
emphasize  his  command. 

"Steady,  Dudley,  you  pay  me,  and  I  do  your 
work  well."  It  was  Kearney's  time  to  talk  now. 
"I'm  useful  to  you  or  you  wouldn't  have  me 
around;  but  you,  nor  no  other  man,  can  pin  a 
badge  on  me,  nor  dictate  with  whom  I  may  as 
sociate.  Where  I  go  Sunday  is  on  my  own  time. 
Do  you  get  me?"  Kearney  showed  that  he  was 
very  much  in  earnest. 

Dudley  did  "get  him"  all  right,  and  he  has 
tened  to  pull  away  from  such  dangerous  ground. 
Kearney  was  absolutely  essential  to  his  plans, 
especially  now. 

"All  right,  but  don't  let  him  hypnotize  you." 

"Sure,  I  won't,"  replied  Kearney,  going  out 
nonchalantly,  his  good  nature  returning  since  he 
had  had  his  say. 

That  night  Dudley  wrote  two  letters — one  to 
the  Rev.  Schott  of  St.  James'  parish,  and  the 
other  to  the  Rev.  St.  Clair,  of  St.  Margaret's,  in 
forming  them  he  was  sorry  he  would  not  be  able 
to  continue  his  annual  contributions  to  their 
parishes — five  hundred  dollars  each.  That  was 
all.  It  was  his  first  "kick-back"  because  of  the 
election  of  Dr.  Anderson  over  Dr.  Lamb.  Dud 
ley  was  sore  all  through.  His  personal  pride  had 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  NEW  BISHOP    49 

been  ruffled  over  that  affair,  and  now  he  had  been 
attacked  from  the  pulpit  by  the  man  who  won. 
To  be  thwarted  was  nothing  as  compared  with 
being  flaunted  in  public,  especially  by  a  preacher. 
That  Bishop  Anderson  had  dared  was  beyond 
Jim  Dudley's  comprehension.  Long  after  most 
people  were  asleep  the  "Big  Chief"  paced  up  and 
down  his  comfortable  study,  scheming  and  plan 
ning  just  what  he  would  do  to  this  bumptious 
cleric  from  the  East. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   SINEWS   OF   WAB 

THINGS  moved  with  amazing  rapidity  in  Pre 
sidio  when  Bishop  Anderson  began  his  work. 
Within  ten  days  after  his  consecration  he  held  a 
combined  meeting  of  his  clericus  and  a  number  of 
prominent  and  wealthy  men  and  women  of  the 
diocese.  To  them  he  outlined  his  plans.  First,  he 
demanded  that  the  mortgage  on  the  bishop's  resi 
dence  be  wiped  out.  But  that  would  be  easy,  a 
matter  of  sixteen  thousand  dollars — a  mere  baga 
telle  !  Without  giving  them  time  to  recover  their 
senses,  he  calmly  announced  his  plans  for  a  new 
cathedral  to  replace  the  ramshackle  St.  Clem 
ent's,  in  which  they  were  at  present  sitting — and 
he  wanted  it  as  soon  as  it  could  be  erected — not 
two  years  hence.  Work  must  start  immedi 
ately  ! 

"But,  Bishop  Anderson,  all  that  will  take 

so 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  51 

money,"  expostulated  the  treasurer  of  the  diocese, 
"and  at  the  present  time  we  have  on  hand  less 
than  one  thousand  dollars;  and,  besides,  we  owe 
many  times  that  amount." 

"To  be  sure,  my  friends,  I  know  that;  but  we 
are  going  to  raise  all  of  the  money  we  need,  at 
once." 

"But  how?" 

"How?"  The  bishop's  confident  smile  broad 
ened  into  a  good-natured  laugh  before  replying. 
"Just  the  same  as  any  business  house  would  do 
in  a  similar  situation.  We  are  going  to  assess  the 
stockholders." 

"Stockholders!"  gasped  one  communicant, 
"but  we  haven't  any  stockholders  in  this  church." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  have,  my  friends.  We  are  all 
stockholders.  Not,  perhaps,  in  a  strictly  legal 
sense,  but  in  a  business  and  churchly  sense.  You 
see,  I  take  the  position  that  the  church  has  two 
entities,  one  spiritual,  and  the  other  business. 
The  spiritual  end  the  clergy  will  attend  to,  and 
in  the  business  end  every  member  must  do  his 
share.  Now,  we  all  know  that  the  diocese  of 
Presidio  is  in  a  very  bad  condition;  that  must  be 
remedied  at  once,  and  the  first  step  is  the  rebuild 
ing  of  the  cathedral.  We  must  have  a  suitable 


52    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

headquarters.  That  will  awaken  a  just  pride  in 
our  hearts  and  inspire  us  accordingly." 

The  very  audacity  of  the  bishop's  proposal  had 
a  breath-catching  effect  upon  the  clericus,  and 
carried  them  along  in  spite  of  their  inward  com- 
bativeness.  They  found  themselves  unable  to 
withstand  his  forceful  personality,  and  were  prac 
tically  swept  off  their  feet. 

"And,  now,  my  friends,"  he  concluded,  "I  will 
never  ask  a  man  or  woman  to  do  that  which  I 
would  not  do  myself.  Within  the  sound  of  my 
voice  there  is  represented  enough  wealth  to  build 
this  new  cathedral  and  a  magnificent  hospital,  as 
well,  without  inconvenience  to  any  of  you.  My 
own  purse  is  not  as  long  as  yours,  and  there  is 
much  demand  upon  it.  But  I  will  head  the  sub 
scription  list  with  a  two-thousand  dollar  subscrip 
tion.  Here's  my  check  for  half  of  it.  As  for  the 
balance,  I  hereby  authorize  the  diocesan  treas 
urer  to  pay  same  to  the  building  committee  out 
of  my  salary,  twelve  equal  installments,  all  within 
one  year  from  date.  There,  my  friends,  is  the  be 
ginning.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

Do?  What  must  they  do,  when  inspired  by 
such  a  leader?  Their  new  bishop  was  evidently  a 
man  who  directed  his  campaign  from  the  firing 
line,  where  the  battle  was  hardest,  rather  than 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  53 

from  a  comfortable  headquarters  miles  away  in 
the  rear.  Here  was  a  general  who  shouted,  "Come 
on!" — not  'Kio  ahead!"  The  very  air  inside  the 
old  church  suddenly  became  surcharged  with  the 
terrific  force  of  the  man.  His  example  was  in 
fectious,  and  subscriptions  came  forth  fast,  and 
generous  in  amount.  The  bishop  had  asked  for 
the  mere  trifle  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars, 
which,  he  said,  would  prove  a  starter !  and  the  rest 
would  come  later!  He  expected  the  whole 
"plant"  would  cost  a  round  quarter  of  a  million, 
and  told  them  so.  When  the  subscriptions  were 
all  in  and  counted,  they  totalled  a  good  third  of 
the  total  sum  required. 

"Magnificent!"  shouted  the  bishop,  "but  not 
enough;  we  want  the  rest  of  that  first  hundred 
thousand  now!" 

Once  again  the  bishop  carried  his  auditors 
along,  careful  himself  to  be  their  leader.  His  own 
contribution  he  increased  five  hundred  dollars. 
He  knew  his  power,  and  it  was  not  his  day  to  quit 
with  half  a  victory.  One  man,  "Old  Hank"  Low 
ell,  as  he  was  known  to  all  Presidio,  was  a  million 
aire,  many  times  over,  and  had  subscribed  a  pal 
try  thousand  dollars — not  even  a  "drop  in  the 
bucket"  to  him.  He  was  reputed  to  be  as  close 
as  one  second  following  another,  but  the  bishop 


54 

refused  to  allow  him  to  live  up  to  his  reputation 
on  this  day.  He  had  determined  that  now  was 
the  time  to  awaken  this  miserly  man. 

"My  friends!"  he  exclaimed,  "you  truly  have 
given  me  a  splendid  idea  of  just  what  the  diocese 
of  Presidio  is  going  to  be.  You  have  contributed 

freely  to  this  worthy  cause ;  but "  and  here  he 

paused  and  allowed  his  gaze  to  travel  around  the 
room,  finally  resting  it  for  one  tense  moment  on 
Lowell. 

"There  are  several  men  and  women  present," 
he  continued,  "who  have  not  done  their  full  duty. 
Once  more  I  call  upon  them  in  the  name  of  hu 
manity,  in  the  name  of  this  diocese,  in  the  name  of 
this  entire  community,  in  the  name  of  my  God 
and  their  God,  to  do  that  which  is  right,  and  give 
from  their  earthly  store  a  sum  commensurate  with 
the  worthiness  of  this  cause.  Come,  friends,  now 
is  the  time  to  show  your  calibre." 

"Hank"  Lowell  knew  just  what  the  bishop 
meant,  and  also  whom  he  was  after.  He  fidgetted 
in  his  seat,  and  tried  to  slide  down  below  those  in 
front  of  him.  But  the  eyes  of  the  bishop 
followed,  and,  ever  his  voice  sounded  the  knell  of 
dollars,  he  knew  Lowell  must  yield.  It  was  a  ter 
rible  situation  for  Lowell.  Moments  seemed 
hours,  as  he  squirmed  in  his  seat.  At  length 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  55 

something  within  him  stirred,  a  feeling  long  since 
dead,  but  finally  revived — Mammon  gave 
way  to  the  God  of  Christianity.  He  arose  in  his 
place  and  swayed  unsteadily  on  his  feet.  His 
face  became  white  and  drawn,  and  his  voice 
quivered,  but  there  was  a  glitter  of  determination 
in  his  eyes,  as  he  opened  his  mouth  to  speak. 

"Bishop  Anderson,  and  you,  my  friends,  I  ain't 
much  of  a  talker  and  I  haven't  given  this  diocese 
as  much  as  I  might  in  days  gone  by,  but  there 
hasn't  been  much  of  a  diocese  to  give  anything  to. 
Now  things  begin  to  look  different,  and  we  have 
a  leader  at  our  head.  Bishop,"  and  here  his  voice 
arose  to  a  high  pitch,  "I'll  subscribe  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars,  and  I'll  write  out  my  check 
now!" 

There  was  one  great  voice  of  approval  when 
"Old  Hank"  Lowell  "walked  the  plank."  But 
he  did  it  bravely.  Once  started  he  never  looked 
back.  Naturally,  everybody  was  astounded.  It 
was  an  unheard-of  thing  for  the  miserly  man 
to  loosen  his  purse  strings  to  such  an  extent. 
After  the  roar  of  approval  died  away,  all  present 
sat  as  if  stunned,  until,  led  by  the  bishop,  another 
storm  of  approbation  broke  loose.  For  the  first 
time  in  all  his  long  life  "Old  Hank"  found  him 
self  a  hero,  and  when  the  meeting  broke  up 


56    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Bishop  Anderson  had  checks  and  pledges  for  a 
good  half  of  his  total  needs.  It  was  a  great  day, 
indeed,  for  him,  and  for  the  church,  and  for  Pre 
sidio. 

Of  course,  the  news  of  the  bishop's  success  be 
came  at  once  the  talk  of  the  town.  The  papers 
slapped  it  on  their  first  pages  under  double-col 
umn  scare  heads.  Even  The  Banner  gave  it 
prominence,  particularly  concerning  "Hank" 
Lowell's  big  contribution,  the  fact  of  which  was 
first  taken  with  a  large  grain  of  salt. 

"Must  have  jimmied  it  out  of  him,"  observed 
Kearney  to  Dudley. 

"Bah!  nothing  but  hypnotism,  and  a  new 
broom.  He'll  play  out." 

"Pretty  good  hyping,"  grinned  Kearney, 
"when  a  man  can  make  a  bunch  come  across  for 
a  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  in  one  day — and 
to  build  a  church — wow!  I  wish  I  had  his  sys 
tem." 

Next  morning  bright  and  early,  numerous  call 
ers  were  on  hand  to  congratulate  and  cheer  the 
bishop.  Among  them  were  the  Rev.  Schott  and 
St.  Clair.  They  told  him  that  Dudley  had  with 
drawn  his  support  from  their  parishes,  and  how 
dreadfully  they  needed  the  money. 

"He  did,  eh?"  ejaculated  the  bishop.    "Well, 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  57 

I'll  call  on  him  soon,  and  see  if  I  can't  bring  him 
back  into  the  fold." 

"Better  keep  away,  Bishop — at  least  until  he 
cools  off.  You  know  he  hasn't  recovered  from  the 
fact  that  you  beat  Lamb." 

"Nonsense,  gentlemen,  I  am  not  afraid  of 
Dudley.  Maybe  a  visit  will  be  a  good  thing  for 
both  of  us." 

It  was  not  Dudley  who  worried  the  bishop  on 
this  beautiful  morning  after  the  big  event  of  his 
life.  The  thing  that  bothered  him  was  where  to 
find  a  place  to  worship  in  while  St.  Clement's  was 
being  rebuilt.  Many  parishioners  lived  near  the 
old  church,  and  it  was  quite  a  distance  to  another 
of  the  same  denomination.  But  no  such  thing  as 
defeat  of  any  project  was  in  the  bishop's  mind 
this  day.  He  thought  quickly,  and,  strange  as 
was  his  final  determination,  he  acted  upon  it  in 
stantly.  As  quickly  as  he  could  get  there  he 
called  upon  Rabbi  Edwin  Wise,  who  presided 
over  Bnai  Brith,  Congregation  of  Israel.  His 
beautiful  church  edifice  fronted  on  Lennox 
Boulevard,  only  two  blocks  away  from  St.  Clem 
ent's,  and  he  personally  was  a  progressive,  high- 
minded  Jew — a  leader  of  his  race.  He  had  met 
Bishop  Anderson  some  years  before  in  the  East, 
and  admired  him  greatly.  The  Rabbi  was  one  of 


58    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

the  very  first  to  welcome  him  upon  his  arrival  in 
Presidio. 

"Rabbi  Wise,"  said  the  bishop,  after  greetings 
had  been  exchanged,  "would  you  consider  allow 
ing  the  parish  of  St.  Clement's  to  use  your  temple 
for  worship  on  Sunday  mornings  during  the  time 
the  cathedral  is  being  rebuilt?" 

"Would  I  ?  Why,  my  dear  Bishop,  I  shall  be 
delighted."  There  could  be  no  halting  and  fid 
dling  between  such  high-minded  gentlemen, 
whereupon  from  his  pulpit  Sunday  morning  next 
Bishop  Anderson  announced  the  new  place  of 
worship. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  consternation  of  the 
parishioners.  A  gentile  parish  worshiping  in  a 
Jewish  Temple!  Jew  and  Gentile  under  the 
same  roof!  It  makes  your  breath  come  quick  to 
think  about  it,  but  the  bishop  minced  no  words 
when  he  saw  that  some  of  his  flock  seemed  in 
clined  to  argue  the  matter. 

"No  use,  my  friends,"  he  told  them;  "the  Jew 
believes  in  the  Old  Testament — his  God  is  our 
God.  We  go  a  little  further  and  accept  the  New 
Testament,  that's  the  only  difference.  We  will 
worship  in  the  Temple  the  next  Sunday  and 
every  Sunday  thereafter  until  our  own  church  is 
rebuilt."  As  usual,  the  bishop  won. 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  59 

The  following  Sunday,  for  the  first  time  in  the 
history  of  the  Christian  world,  a  Jewish  temple 
sheltered  a  Christian  congregation,  and  there  was 
spoken  the  glorious  Apostles'  Creed,  handed 
down  through  generations  of  time.  That  great 
est  and  most  beautiful  reiteration  of  faith,  "I  be 
lieve." 

The  temple  was  crowded,  many  coming  out  of 
curiosity  to  see  the  man  who  dared  defy  cus 
tom.  It  was  evident  that  some  meddlers  in  at 
tendance  expected  to  witness  a  big  row  of  some 
kind.  The  newspapers  had  made  a  sensation  of 
the  matter,  and  no  one  would  have  been  surprised 
if  a  fist  fight  actually  took  place.  Every  move 
made  by  the  bishop  was  eagerly  watched,  but 
after  an  hour  of  orderly,  Christian-like  behavior, 
and  a  splendid  sermon  in  the  bargain,  the  outsid 
ers  opened  their  eyes  to  the  fact  that  a  powerful 
leader  stood  before  them.  They  realized  that 
they  wrere  witnessing  a  wonderful  scene — and, 
while  they  had  come  to  scoff,  they  remained  to 
worship,  along  with  the  rest. 


CHAPTER  VI 

NEW   TROUBLES   ARISE 

IT  was  not  very  long  before  Bishop  Anderson 
was  one  of  the  best-known  men  in  Presidio.  He 
and  his  charming  wife  became  great  favorites  so 
cially,  and  among  the  men  folk  the  bishop  came 
into  his  own.  The  younger  men  liked  him  be 
cause  he  was  red-blooded,  athletic,  a  patron  of 
baseball,  racing,  boxing,  wrestling,  and  all  the 
sports  which  go  to  make  up  a  manly  man.  The 
older  men  liked  him  for  his  fairness  of  mind  and 
his  unflinching  championship  of  right.  As  one 
man  put  it,  "Bishop  Anderson  stands  one  hun 
dred  per  cent  square."  The  bishop  was  not 
preachy.  He  believed  in  his  church,  but  not  in 
such  a  bigoted  way  that  he  could  not  see  goodness 
in  all  churches. 

"Any  clean-living  human  being  can  take  his 

chances  with  God  without  being  afraid."    That 

60 


NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE  61 

was  liis  way  of  looking  at  man's  destiny  in  the 
great  hereafter. 

Kearney  and  the  bishop  became  quite  friendly, 
and  met  on  various  occasions.  Kearney's  em 
ployer,  however,  held  himlself  aloof,  and  the 
bishop  made  no  overtures.  Dudley's  spirit 
rankled  in  his  bosom  by  reason  of  the  bishop's 
popularity,  and  his  petty  soul  failed  to  rise  above 
such  feelings.  He  merely  bided  his  time,  and 
hoped  for  an  opportunity  when  he  could  come  out 
and  fight  the  bishop  openly — not  as  a  churchman, 
but  as  a  man.  He  did  not  want  him  around,  and 
he  decided  to  make  Presidio  too  hot  to  hold  him— 
and  he  wanted  to  do  it  in  his  own  way.  Bishop 
Anderson  was  a  thorn  in  his  side,  which  he  would 
remove  in  time.  Unexpectedly,  his  opportunity 
came  sooner  than  he  expected. 

When  Bishop  Anderson  had  been  in  Presidio 
a  few  months  he  received  a  call  from  three  prom 
inent  citizens — Michael  Flanagan,  president  of 
the  American  Gas  Company;  Rabbi  Wise,  and 
Dr.  Arnold,  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church. 

"Well,  gentlemen!"  exclaimed  the  bishop,  as 
the  delegation  filed  into  his  study  and  confronted 
him,  "this  is,  indeed,  a  pleasant  surprise.  I 
am  glad  to  see  you.  Sit  down  and  make  your 
selves  at  home."  The  easy  manner  of  this  hos- 


62    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

pitable  speech  in  no  way  discovered  to  his  guests 
that  the  bishop  was,  indeed,  very  much  surprised 
at  their  presence  in  his  home.  To  further  impress 
them  with  his  perfect  peace  of  mind,  he  passed 
around  cigars  and  cigarettes,  and  lighted  his 
faithful  old  pipe.  This  done,  he  waited  several 
tense  moments  for  some  one  to  state  the  object 
of  their  visit. 

"Bishop  Anderson,  our  mission  is  a  peculiar 
one,"  began  Mr.  Flanagan,  with  a  show  of  em 
barrassment. 

"Come  right  to  the  point,  Mr.  Flanagan." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Flanagan  thoughtfully,  look 
ing  at  the  tip  of  his  burning  cigar,  "since  you 
came  to  Presidio  your  actions  have  stamped  you 
as  a  man  of  great  force.  A  natural  leader  not 
only  of  your  own  church,  but  of  men  in  all  walks 
of  life." 

"You  flatter  me,  Mr.  Flanagan,"  smilingly  in 
terjected  the  bishop. 

"If  the  truth  is  flattery,  then  I  do.  But  the 
results  you  have  accomplished  speak  for  them 
selves." 

Dr.  Arnold  and  Rabbi  Wise  nodded  approv 
ingly. 

"Now,"  continued  Mr.  Flanagan,  "upon  the 
occasion  of  your  first  sermon  here  you  said  you 


NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE  63 

wore  no  man's  collar.  Do  you  know,  Bishop,  that 
was  the  best  thing  said  in  Presidio  in  twenty 
years." 

"And  why,  pray?"  asked  the  bishop. 

"Because  that  was  the  first  time  Jim  Dudley 
had  been  told  where  he  got  off." 

"Dudley !  you  astonish  me.  My  remark  wasn't 
applicable  to  Dudley  personally,  but  to  a  class 
of  men  who  think  they  can  run  everything  on 
earth  without  consulting  the  feelings  of  others." 

"You  hit  Dudley's  character  to  a  dot,  Bishop 
Anderson,"  interjected  Dr.  Arnold.  "He  has 
been  doing  just  that  ever  since  he  came  to  Pre 
sidio,  and  has  ridden,  rough-shod,  over  us  on 
every  occasion — and  now  the  time  has  come  for 
him  to  be  stopped." 

"And,  Bishop,"  added  Rabbi  Wise,  "you  are 
the  man  to  stop  him." 

Bishop  Anderson  was  astounded  when  these 
gentlemen,  representing,  as  they  did,  three  differ 
ent  religious  faiths — Catholic,  Presbyterian  and 
Jewish — made  their  statement. 

"But,  gentlemen!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  do  not  get 
your  idea.  I  know  from  what  I  have  heard  since 
coming  here  that  Mr.  Dudley  is  a  power.  But  he 
must  be  an  unusually  brilliant  man — a  strong  one 
— to  have  done  all  that  is  claimed  for  him." 


64    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"He  is  strong,  Bishop,"  said  Flanagan,  "and 
brilliant,  but  he  has  become  obsessed  with  the  idea 
that  he  is  impregnable.  Through  his  paper  he 
has  built  up  a  machine  that  pursues  its  way, 
crushing  all  opposition  into  dust." 

"And  you  expect  me  to  offer  myself  to  be 
crushed  in  the  same  way?"  smiled  the  bishop. 

"No,  not  crushed,  Bishop,"  said  Flanagan, 
leaning  across  the  desk  and  speaking  very  tensely. 
"We  expect  you  to  lead  a  movement  which  will 
beat  him.  Beat  him — at  his  own  game." 

"How?"  tersely  asked  the  bishop.  He  was  all 
attention. 

"Bear  with  me  a  moment,  and  I'll  be  as  brief  as 
possible,"  replied  Flanagan.  Dr.  Arnold  and 
Rabbi  Wise  drew  their  chairs  closer  that  they 
might  catch  every  word,  for  the  spokesman  knew 
the  "Big  Chief"  as  no  other  in  Presidio — save 
Kearney.  It  was  a  dramatic  scene,  and  Flanagan 
continued : 

"Dudley  absolutely  controls  his  paper,  as  you 
know.  He  is  rich  in  real  estate,  has  bank  stock, 
and  is  interested  in  many  other  profitable  ven 
tures.  He  positively  dominates  the  political  sit 
uation.  The  mayor,  Schultz,  fawns  upon  him. 
The  speaker  of  the  council  is  Patrick  J.  Kear 
ney — Dudley's  right  hand — and  the  speaker 


NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE  65 

under  our  municipal  system  is  even  more  power 
ful  than  the  mayor.  Kearney  puts  through  the 
council  any  measure  Dudley  asks  for,  and  Schultz 
signs  it.  The  councilmen  are  of  the  usual  cali 
bre  found  in  politics — some  good,  some  bad,  and 
some  worse.  It  makes  no  difference  to  Dudley 
whether  they  are  Republicans  or  Democrats — he 
moulds  them  all  to  his  will.  Our  city  government 
is  a  joke — 'Presidio'  spells  'Dudley' — and  'Dud 
ley'  spells  'Presidio.' ' 

"That  is  a  deplorable  state  of  affairs,  gentle 
men,"  gravely  interjected  the  bishop. 

"It  truly  is,"  continued  Flanagan,  "and  one, 
which  must  not  continue,  if  we  are  to  have  inde 
pendence  of  thought  and  individual  liberty  in  our 
city."  Flanagan  paused  a  moment,  as  if  weigh 
ing  his  words.  "Now  I  come  direct  to  the  point," 
he  continued.  "Dudley,  not  content  with  what  he 
already  possesses,  now  aspires  to  own  the  gas 
company  of  Presidio." 

"But,  Mr.  Flanagan,  I  understood  that  your 
company,  the  American,  owned  the  gas  plant." 

"It  does,  Bishop  Anderson — now.  But  here's 
the  peculiar  situation.  Our  company  was  formed 
twenty-five  years  ago,  when  Presidio  was  a  vil 
lage.  We  didn't  have  much  money,  but  after  we 
secured  our  franchise,  we  began  to  build  what  has 


66    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

since  become  a  great  system.  Of  course,  as  the 
population  grew  and  the  city  expanded,  we  had 
to  meet  the  demand  by  extending  our  system. 
That  required  a  large  amount  of  money,  so  we  in 
creased  our  capital  stock  and  put  out  bond  issues, 
as  the  exigencies  of  the  case  demanded.  Con 
trary  to  most  enterprises  of  this  kind,  the  bonds 
and  stocks  were  largely  sold  right  here  among  our 
own  citizens.  These  securities  were  not  val 
uable  in  the  first  instance,  because  all  the  money 
we  made  of  necessity  must  be  put  back  in  the 
plant  immediately — no  chance  for  dividends 
whatever.  The  change  from  kerosene  light  to 
gas,  you  must  know,  was  very  expensive.  Still, 
there  was  no  complaint  from  our  stockholders, 
and,  of  course,  our  bondholders  always  received 
their  interest.  Only  during  the  past  ten  years 
have  we  been  paying  anything  to  our  stockhold 
ers.  Our  treasury  just  now  is  prospering  to  a 
point  where  dividends  can  be  increased  in  the  near 
future.  Our  financial  standing  is,  at  last,  first 
class.  Our  long  struggle  to  get  on  our  feet  is 
over." 

"You  are  to  be  congratulated,  my  dear  Mr. 
Flanagan,  on  such  a  splendid  showing,"  said  the 
bishop.  "It's  good  to  know  that  at  last  the  cor- 


NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE  67 

poration  is  on  its  own  financial  legs,  and  that  the 
stockholders  are  to  be  rewarded." 

"Thank  you,  Bishop,"  continued  Flanagan, 
"but  I  don't  claim  much  credit.  My  father  built 
the  system  and  I  succeeded  him  when  he  died  ten 
years  ago.  The  American  is  different  from  most 
corporations.  It's  clean,  and  we  try  to  keep  it  so. 
But  now  comes  Dudley.  He  sees  the  value  of 
our  plant  and  wants  it." 

"Yes,  but  how  can  he  get  it,  Mr.  Flanagan? 
From  your  own  statement  your  property  is  valu 
able,  and  the  dividends  you  are  paying  make 
your  stock  worth  above  par.  I  don't  know  much 
about  business,  but  I  do  know  that.  So  if  Mr. 
Dudley  wants  your  system,  he'll  have  to  pay  a 
goodly  sum;  so  large,  in  fact,  I  doubt  if  even  his 
plethoric  purse  can  stand  it."  Flanagan  arose 
and  paced  the  floor  of  the  bishop's  study. 

"Buy!"  he  exploded.  "Buy  the  American! 
Jim  Dudley — buy  it!  Huh!  You  don't  know 
him — he  doesn't  intend  to  buy  it.  He's  going  to 
take  it!"  Flanagan  paused  in  front  of  the  bishop. 

"Men  of  Dudley's  type  don't  buy — they  take !" 
he  shouted. 

"You  mean  take  it,  without  aye,  yes,  or  no? 
What  about  the  law?" 

"Law!"  interjected  Rabbi  Wise,  "law  is  the 


68    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

rich  man's  convenience  in  a  case  like  this.  Wait 
until  you  hear  the  rest  of  the  story.  Go  on,  Mr. 
Flanagan !" 

"The  franchise  of  any  company,  Bishop  An 
derson,  is  its  most  valuable  asset ;  take  that  away, 
and  you  cut  the  ground  from  under  its  feet." 

"Yes,  but  you  have  a  franchise,  Mr.  Flanagan 
— you've  just  said  so." 

"True,  we  have  a  franchise,  but  for  only 
twenty-five  years — and  it  runs  out  next  Octo 
ber." 

"But  surely  a  renewal  will  be  granted?" 

"Not  if  Jim  Dudley  can  stop  it,  and  under 
present  conditions  he  can  probably  do  so.  Listen, 
Bishop — the  granting  of  the  franchise  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  present  city  council,  and  Dudley 
controls  that  council.  Don't  forget,  his  man 
Kearney  is  its  chairman." 

"But  the  council — would  it  dare  refuse  your 
company  a  franchise  upon  the  showing  you  have 
just  made?" 

"Refuse!"  cried  Flanagan  passionately.  "Re 
fuse!  Why,  that  council  would  crucify  their 
mothers,  if  Dudley  said  the  word !" 

"What  a  deplorable  state  of  affairs!"  ex 
claimed  the  bishop — "and  in  a  progressive  city 
like  Presidio !  I  can't  imagine  such  an  outrage." 


NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE  69 

"Wait,"  again  began  Flanagan,  "wait  until 
you  hear  the  rest  of  his  scheme.  If  the  American 
fails  in  renewing  its  franchise,  its  most  valuable 
asset  becomes  worthless ;  its  stock  is  dead,  the  in 
tegrity  of  the  bonds  is  guaranteed  by  the  value 
of  the  plant,  which  is  more  than  ample  for  the 
purpose.  The  bondholders  won't  lose  a  penny, 
but  the  stockholders  will  lose  everything — and 
that  would  spell  financial  ruin  to  thousands  of 
citizens  here  in  Presidio,  who  have  invested  their 
all  in  this  stock.  Our  stock  is  widely  held,  much 
of  it  being  in  the  hands  of  widows  and  orphans." 

Flanagan,  thoroughly  worked  up,  paused  a 
moment,  trying  to  collect  himself.  Dr.  Arnold 
and  Rabbi  Wise  listened  in  silence,  but  their  tense 
expression  showed  them  to  be  as  vitally  interested 
in  the  recital  as  Flanagan.  They  knew  every 
word  he  said  was  true. 

"Now,  Bishop,  here's  Dudley's  scheme.  A  new 
company,  called  the  'National,'  is  to  be  formed. 
The  corporation  papers  are  already  drawn  up. 
Dudley  is  to  be  the  principal  backer  of  this  com 
pany  ;  the  present  council  will  give  the  new  com 
pany  a  franchise  for  fifty  years.  The  American 
not  having  a  franchise,  will,  perforce,  be  out  of 
business.  The  bondholders  will  apply  for  a  re 
ceivership,  the  new  company  will  buy  the  plant 


70    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

for  a  song,  the  bondholders  will  receive  stocks  and 
securities  for  twice  their  old  value  in  the  new — 
and  present  stockholders  will  hold  the  bag." 

"And  you  say  that  can  be  done  legally?" 

"Legally!  Why,  Bishop  Anderson,  the  law 
will  not  only  protect  them  in  their  scheme,  but 
it  will  assist  them.  I  tell  you,  all  the  financial 
highbinders  are  not  in  Wall  Street.  We  have  a 
few  here  in  Presidio,  and  Dudley  is  king." 

"Doesn't  Dudley  own  any  American  securities, 
Mr.  Flanagan?" 

"Own  any!"  cried  Flanagan  sarcastically.  "I 
should  say  he  does.  More  than  a  million  in  our 
bonds,  and  a  few  of  his  henchmen  own  as  much 
more.  He  controls  them.  He  or  his  man  Friday 
will  ask  for  a  receivership.  They  are  not  going 
to  lose  anything — that's  not  their  game.  It's  the 
poor  investors  in  the  stock — the  people  who 
helped  build  the  system,  and  who  have  waited 
long  years  for  dividends,  who  will  lose." 

"But,  gentlemen,"  said  the  bishop,  rising;  "can 
not  the  action  of  this  council  be  delayed  until 
after  the  next  election?  When  is  that?" 

"November." 

"Well,  can't  that  be  done?" 

"No,  Bishop,  it  can't.  Our  only  hope  is  to 
work  on  this  council." 


NEW  TROUBLES  ARISE  71 

"How?  From  what  you  have  told  me  it  seems 
that  such  a  thing  would  be  well  nigh  impossible." 

"That  brings  us  down  to  the  main  object  of  our 
visit  to  you.  We  want  to  form  a  movement — 
hold  a  series  of  meetings — and  so  arouse  the  pub 
lic  spirit  that  this  council  will  see  the  handwriting 
on  the  wall,  and  refuse  to  do  Dudley's  bidding. 
That's  our  only  chance,  Bishop." 

"Surely,  I  am  in  sympathy  with  such  a  move 
ment,  but  what  specific  thing  can  I  do?"  As  if  by 
common  impulse  all  three  visitors  arose  and  con 
fronted  their  host,  each  seeming  to  be  fired  with  a 
desire  to  talk.  But  it  was  Flanagan  who 
spoke 

"Bishop  Anderson,"  said  he  deliberately, 
"every  great  movement  must  have  a  leader.  We 
want  you  to  lead  this  movement." 

"Me!"  exclaimed  the  bishop;  "you  want  me  to 
lead  it !  Why,  gentlemen !" 

"Wait,  Bishop,"  broke  in  Rabbi  Wise;  "we 
want  you  to  lead  it  for  two  reasons.  First,  you 
have  the  natural  ability  and  courage — we  know 
that.  Second,  you  are  new  in  Presidio.  Third, 
you  have  no  prejudices,  save  for  things  which  are 
right.  You  are  the  one  man  who  can  beat  Dud 
ley!"  The  bishop  started  to  interrupt,  but  the 
Rabbi  would  not  be  gainsayed.  "What  Mr. 


72    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Flanagan  says  about  poor  people  owning  this 
stock  is  true.  Many  of  my  flock  hold  some  of  it, 
and  Dudley's  scheme  would  cause  untold  misery." 

"And  I,"  said  Dr.  Arnold,  "agree  with  my 
good  brother  the  Rabbi,  and  also  with  Mr.  Flana 
gan.  Members  of  my  church  are  as  vitally  inter 
ested  as  we." 

"Bishop,"  interjected  Flanagan,  "I'm  not 
much  of  a  churchman,  but  I  am  a  Catholic  in 
faith,  and  I  can  promise  you  the  hearty  co-opera 
tion  of  my  church.  It  will  be  a  combination 
wherein  religious  differences  are  wiped  out  and 
racial  prejudices  forgotten.  We  will  be  fighting 
each  with  and  for  the  other.  Please  do  not  re 
fuse.  We  need  your  help.  You  are  the  man  of 
all  men  in  Presidio  to  organize  the  forces  to  avert 
this  great  calamity.  Come,  Bishop,  we  can't 
make  it  without  your  help." 

Bishop  Anderson  slowly  refilled  and  relighted 
his  old  briar  pipe,  and  then  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  room,  hands  behind  his  back,  puffing  so  vig 
orously  that  he  was  soon  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of 
smoke.  The  proposition  was,  indeed,  a  serious 
one.  He  could  not  neglect  his  own  church,  but 
here  were  brothers  of  other  creeds  calling  upon 
him  for  help.  And,  too,  another  picture  came  into 
his  mind,  that  of  the  general  misery  which  would 


"Very  well,  gentlemen,  I'll  consent,  but  I  want  it  distinctly 

understood  that  everything  we  do  must  be  open  and 

above  board"  said  Bishop  Anderson 


/o 

ensue  if  Dudley  succeeded.  That  would  be  horri 
ble,  indeed.  Widows  and  orphans !  Widows  and 
orphans!  For  many  long  minutes  he  continued 
his  solemn  tread  about  the  big  room.  He  was 
making  sure  within  himself  just  where  his  duty 
lay.  There  must  be  no  mistake  about  this.  Fi 
nally  he  mumbled  audibly  the  words — widows 
and  orphans — and  then  abruptly  faced  the  com 
mittee. 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I'll  consent 
to  lead  your  movement  to  defeat  Dudley,  but  I 
want  it  distinctly  understood,  everything  we  do 
must  be  open  and  above  board.  I  am  not  a  poli 
tician  nor  a  statesman,  but  I  do  fight  fair" 

Great  was  the  satisfaction  of  all  when  the  big 
decision  was  reached  by  the  bishop.  There  was  a 
ring  of  pure  joy  in  the  shout  that  went  up  from 
Flanagan,  who  rushed  forward  and  embraced  the 
prelate. 

"Thank  God!"  he  roared,  "with  the  bishop  at 
the  front  of  us,  we'll  win.  It's  'Little  Chief 
Dudley  he'll  be  when  we  get  through  with  him." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   MASS   MEETING 

THE  next  day  The  Tribune  and  The  Scimitar, 
the  two  opposition  papers  to  Dudley's  Banner,, 
came  out  with  an  announcement  that  there  would 
be  a  mass  meeting  that  evening  in  Convention 
Hall  to  discuss  the  gas  franchise  situation;  and 
that  this  meeting  would  be  presided  over  by 
Bishop  Anderson,  who  had  lately  arrived  in  Pre 
sidio.  Ordinarily,  The  Tribune  and  The  Scimitar 
did  not  wield  much  influence  in  Presidio,  but  now, 
after  they  had  heard  Flanagan's  story  of  the  in 
terview  that  he,  Rabbi  Wise  and  Dr.  Arnold  had 
had  with  Bishop  Anderson  the  day  previous,  they 
realized  something  was  going  to  be  started  in 
Presidio  that  would  give  them  plenty  of  news  for 
some  months  to  come. 

There  was  a  meeting  of  their  two  managing  ed 
itors,  and  for  the  campaign  about  to  start  they 
agreed,  to  make  a  combination  and  play  it  strong. 

74 


THE  MASS  MEETING  75 

The  Tribune,  being  a  morning  paper,  had  the 
advantage  in  priority  of  announcement,  and  the 
next  morning  its  front  page  carried  a  double-col 
umn  leader  dealing  with  the  American  Gas  case 
and  the  new  franchise.  It  made  a  vicious  attack 
on  Dudley,  exposing  his  hand,  all  of  which  the 
citizens  already  knew;  told  of  Bishop  Anderson's 
activity  since  coming  to  Presidio  and  of  his  con 
senting  to  lead  this  fight.  At  noon,  the  first  edi 
tion  of  The  Scimitar  appeared  on  the  streets,  and 
in  a  more  sensational  manner  they  played  up  the 
news.  The  Scimitar  had  pictures  of  the  bishop— 
of  Dudley — of  Flanagan,  and  sketches  of  de 
crepit  old  men  wending  their  way  "over  the  hills 
to  the  poor  house."  It  was  pathetic,  and  caused 
a  sensation  in  a  mild  way — a  sensation,  not  on  ac 
count  of  the  agitation,  but  because  Bishop  Ander 
son  had  consented  to  lead  the  fight  against  Dud 
ley.  The  staggering  thing  about  it  all  was — that 
any  one  would  dare  fight  him.  They  had  so  long 
been  bullied  and  bulldozed  by  this  man,  that  Pre 
sidio  citizens  had  ceased  to  believe  any  one  would 
have  the  courage  to  fight  him.  Older  men  shook 
their  heads  in  a  deprecatory  manner;  younger 
ones  grinned  and  said:  "Go  to  it,  Bishop!" 

The  Banner  had  not  been  giving  much  atten 
tion  to  the  franchise  matter.     Dudley  sat  en- 


76    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

trenched  behind  the  thought  that  he  had  things 
all  his  own  way.  The  council  would  grant  the 
new  company  the  franchise — he  would  strangle 
the  old,  and  add  another  scalp  to  his  belt.  Oppo 
sition  to  him — pooh!  There  wasn't  any  such 
thing.  His  contempt  for  the  Tribune  and  Scim 
itar  was  so  great  that  ordinarily  he  wouldn't  even 
allow  copies  of  them  brought  into  his  building. 
But  to-day  things  were  different. 

Kearney  was  the  first  to  learn  the  news.  He 
grinned  when  he  bought  a  Tribune  and  read  the 
leader.  Taking  the  paper  with  him  he  went  into 
Dudley's  office. 

"Morning,  Dudley,  seen  to-day's  Tribune?" 

"Seen  it?"  snapped  Dudley.  "What  do  I 
want  to  see  the  Tribune  for?" 

"It's  giving  it  to  you  this  morning." 

"That's  nothing  new.  It  generally  does.  But 
what  does  it  amount  to?" 

"Nothing,  heretofore,"  replied  the  laconic 
Kearney,  "but  this  time  it's  a  wee  bit  different. 
Bishop  Anderson's  heading  a  movement  to  fight 
you  on  the  franchise  question.  First  meeting  to 
night  at  Presidio  Hall.  Bet  it'll  be  a  hummer! 
Here's  the  paper — want  to  see  it?" 

"What's  that  you  say?"  roared  the  chief,  ris- 


THE  MASS  MEETING  77 

ing  from  his  desk  and  taking  the  paper.  He  read 
in  astonishment. 

"Well,  great  Scott!  what  do  you  know  about 
that!" 

"Wrong  name,  Jim;  my  name's  Kearney," 
grinned  his  henchman. 

Dudley  read  every  word,  a  grim  look  settled 
over  his  face. 

"Now,  Kearney,  I've  got  him.  Now,  I  can 
fight  him,  and  fight  him  I  will.  Why,  the  little 
picayune!  The  nerve  of  him — to  tackle  me!" 

"Oh,  I  dunno,  Jim,  the  bishop  isn't  such  a  little 
cuss.  About  six  feet  two  I  reckon." 

"But  mentally,  I  mean.  There's  where  he's 
small." 

"You're  kidding  yourself.  And,  besides,  a  lit 
tle  chap  named  David  once  bounced  a  rock  off  of 
Goliath's  head.  You've  heard  of  that,  haven't 
you?" 

"Shut  up,"  snarled  Dudley.  Kearney  merely 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  knew  Dudley. 
"Now,"  continued  Dudley,  "he's  out  in  the  open 
and  I  can  smash  him.  You  take  a  couple  of  good 
men  to  that  meeting  to-night.  Sit  in  the  audience 
—if  there  is  one — and  hear  what's  going  on.  And 
to-morrow  morning's  Banner  can  fire  the  first 


78    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

shot — and  it'll  be  a  hot  one.  I'll  write  it  myself 
after  you  come  back. 

"There'll  be  a  crowd,  all  right.  Bishop  Ander 
son  generally  draws  one." 

"Sure,  but  they  will  only  come  out  of  curiosity. 
After  I  get  through  with  him  to-morrow,  he 
won't  be  able  to  get  out  a  baker's  dozen." 

"Maybe  that's  true,"  said  Kearney,  as  he  went 
out,  "but  I  doubt  it." 

Presidio  sizzled  with  excitement  that  after 
noon.  Every  one  wondered  what  would  be  "Big 
Chief  Dudley's"  first  move.  That  he  would  fight 
the  bishop  and  fight  him  hard,  no  one  doubted. 
"Wait  until  to-morrow,"  said  the  people. 
"Wait."  And  they  did,  but  in  waiting  about  ten 
thousand  of  them  wended  their  way  to  Presidio 
Hall  to  see  the  fight  started. 

"Idle  curiosity,"  perhaps,  as  Dudley  put  it. 
But  before  that  meeting  was  over,  deep  down  in 
their  hearts,  every  one  in  that  vast  audience  knew 
a  fight  to  the  death  had  been  started  on  Jim  Dud 
ley;  knew  that  either  he  or  Bishop  Anderson 
would  have  to  give  in,  and  most  of  those  who 
heard  the  bishop,  opined  he  would  not  be  the 
one  to  first  cry,  "Hold,  enough!" 

The  great  hall,  built  largely  through  the 
enterprise  of  The  Banner,  seated  5,000,  and  the 


THE  MASS  MEETING  79 

building  was  filled  to  overflowing,  when,  at  eight 
o'clock,  Bishop  Anderson  ascended  the  platform, 
and  called  the  meeting  to  order.  He  had  with 
him  Rabbi  Wise  and  several  other  prominent 
Jews;  Dr.  Arnold,  the  Presbyterian;  Father 
Leahy,  a  Catholic  clergyman,  and  Mr.  Flanagan, 
besides  many  others  of  more  or  less  prominence. 

Flanagan  was  the  first  speaker,  and,  in  a  calm, 
dispassionate  manner,  he  reviewed  the  history  of 
the  American.  Told  of  its  early  struggles,  of 
its  present  prosperity,  and  of  the  bright  future 
in  store  for  the  company  and  its  stockholders,  if 
they  were  allowed  to  proceed.  Flanagan  was  not 
an  orator,  just  a  plain  business  man — an  honest 
one  be  it  said — and  the  facts  and  figures  he  pre 
sented  sank  home.  His  hearers  knew  he  spoke 
the  truth. 

Then  came  Rabbi  Wise,  Father  Leahy,  and 
Dr.  Arnold,  each  of  whom  delivered  his  message 
to  the  people,  and  adjured  them  to  be  strong  in 
the  fight  just  begun.  There  was  some  perfunc 
tory  enthusiasm,  but  the  audience  was  waiting  for 
the  bishop.  It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  he 
arose  and  faced  that  vast  assemblage — the  pro 
letariat  of  Presidio.  The  big  auditorium  was  as 
still  as  death,  as  this  commanding  figure,  with 
tense,  drawn  face,  stood  before  them  at  "Arma- 


8o    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

geddon — battling  for  the  Lord."  It  was  not  an 
oratorical  display;  just  a  plain,  simple,  strong 
talk  of  a  man  unafraid,  who  was  willing  to  lead 
them  in  a  fight  for  their  rights,  and — for  some  of 
them — the  very  right  to  live. 

Every  one  listened  intently  as  the  bishop  re 
viewed  events  as  they  had  been  presented  to  him 
since  his  arrival  in  Presidio.  He  spoke  feelingly 
of  the  natural  beauty  of  the  city,  of  its  great  re 
sources,  its  brilliant  future.  He  wasn't  even  a 
voter  here  yet — he  knew  that — but  he  was  a  citi 
zen  none  the  less,  and  anything  affecting  the  gen 
eral  welfare  of  the  community,  affected  him.  He 
had  been  informed  that  one  man  was  responsible 
for  the  deplorable  condition  of  affairs;  one  man 
entrenched  by  the  power  of  money  and  his  paper 
was  endeavoring  to  wield  the  sceptre  of  absolute 
control  over  them;  one  man  proposed  to  take 
from  the  people  that  which  was  theirs;  one  man 
backed  by  fictitious  legal  rights,  proposed  to  con 
trol  the  lighting  situation  in  Presidio.  And  why  ? 
Did  he  need  money?  No,  he  had  millions  of  that. 
No,  not  money.  Power?  No,  he  wielded  a  tre 
mendous  power  through  his  paper.  Why  then? 
The  bishop  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said — 
"I'll  tell  you  why,  my  friends — for  the  simple 
satisfaction  of  his  inordinate  personal  ambition, 


THE  MASS  MEETING  81 

and  his  lust  for  gain.  He  has  you  garotted,  and, 
ogre-like,  sits  turning  the  thumbscrew  until  he 
knows  that  with  another  turn  or  two  the  spinal 
cord  of  Presidio's  backbone  will  be  reached  and 
cracked.  Then,  he  will  be  absolute.  I  believe  in 
fighting  in  the  open.  I  have  told  you  all  these 
things  and  every  word  I  have  spoken  you  know 
is  the  truth.  I  haven't  mentioned  this  man's  name 
• — you  all  know  it.  But  for  fear  some  may  think 
I  stand  afraid,  I  hurl  it  at  you.  I  mean  James 
Burchard  Dudley!"  There  was  a  gasp  from  the 
audience.  Applause  started.  The  bishop  raised 
his  hands. 

"Wait,"  he  cried,  "don't  applaud  yet.  It's  not 
time,  and,  besides,  applause  is  but  an  empty  ex 
pression  of  present  enthusiasm,  and  to  be  effec 
tive  must  needs  be  backed  up  by  deeds." 

Then  the  good  bishop  paid  his  respects  to  the 
members  of  the  present  city  council,  most  of 
whom  were  in  the  audience.  In  no  uncertain 
terms  did  he  call  upon  them  to  do  their  full  duty 
by  refusing  to  do  the  bidding  of  this  man.  He 
appealed  to  their  honor,  their  manhood,  their 
sense  of  right  and  justice  to  all  mankind.  He 
appealed  to  them  not  as  a  churchman,  but  as  a 
man,  just  one  of  them;  yea,  even  as  the  humblest 


82    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

and  poorest  citizen  might  have  appealed — to  do 
right  and  follow  their  conscience. 

In  closing,  the  bishop  said:  "And  now,  gentle 
men,  permit  me  to  say  I  am  not  fighting  Jim 
Dudley — you  call  him  'The  Big  Chief — as  a 
single  individual,  but  I  am  fighting  any  system  of 
government  which  will  permit  one  man  to  wield 
such  an  arbitrary  power;  I  am  fighting  any  sys 
tem  of  legal  procedure,  which  will  throw  the  pro 
tection  of  the  law  around  such  nefarious  schemes 
—the  law  which  is  supposed  to  be  just  and  right, 
and  the  poor  man's  protection.  I  call  upon  you 
to  go  for  that  council,  hit  them  hard — blows  with 
the  force  of  the  hammer  of  Thor — give  them  no 
rest  day  or  night,  until  you  have  wrung  from 
them  a  promise  to  defeat  Dudley's  company,  and 
renew  the  American  franchise.  See  them,  'phone 
them,  write  them;  make  their  very  life  a  bur 
den  of  protest,  until  the  light  breaks  in  upon 
their  hide-bound  minds.  Work  up  public  opin 
ion,  arouse  your  neighbors,  make  these  men  un 
derstand  they  must  'render  unto  Cassar  those 
things  that  are  Caesar's';  and  the  result  will  be  a 
better  Presidio,  a  more  enlightened  citizenship; 
our  city  will  be  our  joy,  our  comfort  and  our 
pride,  and  God  will  be  with  you  in  this  fight." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence — tense  to  a  de- 


THE  MASS  MEETING  83 

gree — and  then  the  applause  started.  Wave 
after  wave  of  it  rolled  back  and  forth  across  that 
great  auditorium.  Men  leaped  to  their  feet, 
slapped  each  other  on  the  back,  screamed  and 
shrieked.  They  crowded  around  the  platform 
shaking  the  hand  of  the  bishop. 

Rabbi  Wise,  Dr.  Arnold,  and  Father  Leahy 
congratulated  him  in  warm  terms;  a  photogra 
pher  of  The  Scimitar  secured  a  flashlight  of  these 
four  clerics,  Episcopalian,  Jew,  Presbyterian  and 
Catholic — with  hands  clasped.  One  man,  an  old 
soldier,  stood  up  on  a  chair  and  began  to  sing 
"America."  One  by  one  the  audience  joined  in, 
and,  finally,  ten  thousand  human  voices  were 
singing  from  their  very  hearts  "My  Country  'tis 
of  Thee."  Of  the  members  of  the  Council,  some 
stayed,  already  convinced.  The  majority 
sneaked  out  to  await  further  orders  from  the  "Big 
Chief,"  who  ruled  +hem  with  a  rod  of  iron. 

Out  of  idle  curiosity  had  come  many — but 
most  of  them  went  away  firm  believers  and 
they  would  work  on  their  councilmen. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   APPROACHING   STORM 

ONE  of  Bishop  Anderson's  auditors,  who  lis 
tened  with  more  than  passing  interest,  was  Kear 
ney — Patrick  J.  Kearney — the  one  man  there 
representing  Dudley  in  his  personal  capacity. 
The  two  reporters  concealed  in  the  audience  came 
to  him  after  the  meeting  was  over  for  instruc 
tions. 

"Beat  it,"  he  tersely  said,  "write  up  your  notes, 
and  turn  them  in  to  the  city  editor.  Better  keep 
away  from  the  old  man.  I'll  see  him  when  I 
come  over."  And  they  did  "beat  it,"  glad  of  a 
chance  to  escape. 

All  through  Bishop  Anderson's  masterly  ad 
dress,  Kearney  sat,  one  leg  crossed  over  the  other, 
leaning  slightly  forward,  and  meditatively  chew 
ing  tobacco.  Once  or  twice  he  thought  the  bishop 
saw  and  recognized  him — perhaps  he  did.  You 
may  be  sure  the  bishop  knew  Kearney  was  there. 

84 


THE  APPROACHING  STORM        85 

Kearney  realized  every  word  the  bishop  said  was 
true.  Dudley  was  an  arrogant,  over-bearing 
man.  But  he  held  the  reins  in  his  hand — he  was 
the  driver.  Kearney  also  knew  that.  In  his  long 
career  with  Dudley,  he  had  seen  men  rise  up  to 
fight  "The  Big  Chief"  only  to  be  beaten  in  re 
turn.  But  he  respected  this  man,  this  church 
man,  who  was  not  afraid  to  stand  up  in  the  pres 
ence  of  that  vast  audience,  and  call  a  spade  a 
spade.  Once  Kearney  thought,  "If  that  bishop 
had  happened  around  here  about  ten  years  ago, 
before  Jim  Dudley  got  all  his  power,  I'm  think 
ing  he  would  have  whaled  the  tar  out  of  him,  but 
he's  too  late  now. 

"Every  wave,"  reasoned  Kearney,  "that  goes 
up,  must  come  down,  and,  in  coming  down,  must 
break  into  spray  and  foam,  and  go  back  to  the 
ocean  from  whence  it  came. 

"Still,  I  dunno,"  he  further  thought,  as  he 
walked  over  to  The  Banner  building,  "there  may 
be  more  back  of  this  movement  than  we  imagine. 
That  bishop  certainly  is  a  rip-roarer  for  stirring 
things  up.  No  discounting  that." 

When  he  entered  Dudley's  office  he  found  the 
chief  and  Mayor  Schultz  in  conversation.  A  look 
at  Schultz  and  one  could  see  just  what  he  was — 
a  puppet — a  mere  political  tool,  subservient  to  a 


86    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

degree.  Dudley  whirled  in  his  chair,  facing 
Kearney  as  he  came  in,  the  seriousness  of  the 
man's  face  gave  him  an  inkling  of  what  was  to 
come. 

"Howdy,  Mayor,"  said  Kearney,  shaking 
Schultz's  limp  hand. 

Dudley  was  a  man  of  very  few  words,  and  the 
mayor  less — when  his  master  was  around. 

"Well,"  snapped  Dudley. 

"No  Veil'  about  it,"  retorted  Kearney.  "Dud 
ley,  I've  been  attending  political  pow-wows  and 
conventions  all  my  life — but  consarn  me  if  I  ever 
saw  one  like  this  meeting  to-night.  It  was  more 
like  a  religion — a  new  religion." 

"Cut  the  preaching  and  get  down  to  facts," 
snarled  Dudley. 

"I'm  just  giving  them  to  you,"  said  Kearney, 
undisturbed  by  his  chief's  irrascibility.  He  never 
let  that  worry  him  a  bit — "and  I  mean  what  I  say, 
when  I  say  'new  religion.'  Here  were  four  men 
all  representing  different  faiths,  Catholic,  Jew, 
Presbyterian  and  Episcopalian  on  the  same  plat 
form,  fighting  for  the  same  things.  If  that  isn't 
brotherhood  of  man,  what  is  ?  Huh  ?" 

"Now,  will  you  stop  giving  me  your  thoughts 
on  religion,  and  tell  me  just  what  happened?" 

"Sure  I  will,"  grinned  Kearney.    And  in  his 


THE  APPROACHING  STORM        87 

own  plain  way  he  related  the  incidents  of  the 
meeting.  Dudley  was  walking  up  and  down, 
while  Kearney  talked,  and  the  mayor  sat  meekly 
by,  never  missing  a  word.  Mayor  Schultz,  nat 
urally,  wanted  another  term,  and  that  evening 
Dudley  had  promised  it  to  him.  When  Kearney 
finished  telling  of  the  meeting,  he  turned  to  the 
mayor,  and  said : 

"Schultz,  if  I  were  you,  when  I  went  home  to 
night,  I'd  sit  down  and  write  an  application  to 
some  reliable  house  asking  for  a  job.  You're  go 
ing  to  need  it  after  the  November  election." 

The  mayor  was  much  downcast,  and,  making  a 
hasty  adieu,  he  did  go  home,  much  troubled  in 
mind — not  in  conscience,  since  he  had  none. 

Dudley  was  furious  when  he  heard  of  the  bish 
op's  outspoken  attack  on  him.  All  semblance  of 
reason  fled.  He  must  win  now,  if  only  to  satisfy 
his  pride  in  beating  this  man,  who  dared  to  openly 
flaunt  him  in  Presidio.  He  had  faith  in  his  man, 
Kearney — knew  he  could  control  him,  as  long  as 
he  remained  in  his  employ.  He  knew  also, 
through  Kearney,  he  could  control  enough  votes 
in  the  council  to  put  through  the  franchise,  or  any 
other  matter,  and  he  also  knew  Mayor  Schultz 
would  sign. 

"Confound  him,"  he  roared,  "he's  got  to!'* 


88    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Sure,  I  know  that,  Jim,  but  better  slow  up 
a  while." 

"Not  for  a  minute,"  said  Dudley  with  a  sneer 
ing  growl,  "if  that  bishop  wants  a  fight,  he  can 
have  it." 

"Well,  he  ain't  declining  the  issue,  as  I  can 
see,"  replied  Kearney.  There  was  a  moment's 
silence,  as  Dudley  paced  up  and  down. 

"Jim,"  continued  Kearney,  "back  in  October, 
'71,  an  old  Irish  lady  named  O'Leary,  living  in 
Chicago,  owned  a  cow.  She  went  out  to  milk  it 
one  evening  after  dark,  and  took  with  her  an  ordi 
nary  coal-oil  lamp.  Mother  O'Leary  and  the  cow 
weren't  on  very  good  terms  that  night,  because 
the  cow  let  go  and  kicked  over  the  lamp.  Re 
member  what  happened?" 

"Surely,  I  remember,"  answered  Dudley,  "but 
what's  that  got  to  do  with  this  case?" 

"Just  this — I  somehow  feel  like  that  scene  is 
being  re-enacted  right  here  in  Presidio,  and 
Bishop  Anderson  is  playing  the  part  of  the  cow — 
and  this  franchise  question  is  the  lamp.  Look  out 
for  the  blaze  he  starts!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?  Getting 
chicken-hearted?" 

"Naw,  Jim,  just  sensible — that's  all." 

"Well,  keep  such  thoughts  to  yourself,  and 


THE  APPROACHING  STORM        89 

listen  to  me.  I'm  in  this  fight  and  I'm  going  to 
win.  Now,  as  a  starter,  we're  going  to  find  out 
all  about  this  bishop.  Everything  from  the  cradle 
to  the  present  time.  Every  man  has  a  weak  spot. 
I  have  one — you  have  one — Dr.  Lamb  has  one. 
So  has  Bishop  Anderson.  Get  his!  Comb  his 
record;  use  wires,  letters,  telephones,  money," 
and,  pausing  a  moment — "use  women,  if  neces 
sary,  to  get  him,  but  get  him — do  you  under 
stand?" 

"Sure,  I  understand,"  said  Kearney,  "but  look 
out  the  bishop  doesn't  get  you !" 

"Bah!"  retorted  Dudley,  "a  preacher  and  a 
scribbler  get  me?"  The  idea  was  so  amusing  he 
burst  out  laughing. 

"All  right,  Jim,  it's  your  funeral,  not  mine ;  but 
I  warn  you — look  out!  Good-night — see  you  in 
the  morning." 

"Good-night,  Kearney,"  said  Dudley,  seating 
himself  at  his  desk.  Then  he  wrote  a  scathing 
editorial  for  the  next  day's  Banner,  one  calcu 
lated  to  shrivel  Bishop  Anderson's  soul — after 
ward  he  called  Dennis,  his  office  boy,  to  carry  it 
out  to  the  editorial  room.  This  done,  he  motored 
home,  a  prey  to  his  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MR.    CATON    DISAPPEARS 

THE  issues  of  The  Tribune  and  Scimitar,  an 
nouncing  the  meeting  just  described,  were  tame, 
indeed,  compared  to  those  of  the  day  following, 
when  these  papers  gave  the  details  of  that  meet 
ing.  Their  front  pages  and  editorial  columns 
fairly  sizzled  with  the  news.  The  Scimitar  was 
particularly  bitter  in  its  attack  on  Dudley.  For 
years  this  paper  had  led  a  hand-to-mouth  sort  of 
an  existence,  just  hanging  on,  as  it  were,  by  its 
eyelashes.  Its  pages  were  largely  made  up  of  sen 
sationalism,  sports  and  comics.  True,  it  had  at 
tacked  Dudley  on  more  than  one  occasion,  but  it 
was  like  a  flea  trying  to  bite  an  elephant — the  hide 
was  too  thick  to  be  affected  by  the  bite.  Dudley 
had  scorned  it;  forbade  his  paper  even  replying 
to  The  Scimitar's  attacks.  But  now  things  were 
different.  Here  was  a  real,  live,  vital  issue,  on 

which  to  fight  him,  and  on  top  of  that  the  fight 

90 


MR.  CATON  DISAPPEARS  91 

was  to  be  led  by  a  man  different  in  every  way 
from  any  other  individual  who  had  dared  to  take 
up  the  cudgels  against  Dudley.  A  man  of  intel 
lect,  of  learning,  of  distinguished  ability,  of  un 
blemished  reputation  and  character,  and  a  leader 
of  a  great  church,  and  of  undoubted  and  proven 
courage.  It  was  a  rare  situation,  indeed,  and 
The  Scimitar  played  it  for  all  it  was  worth.  It 
was  fighting  for  a  good  cause — an  appealing  one. 
The  people  were  concerned. 

On  The  Scimitar's  first  page  was  a  fine,  half 
tone  reproduction  of  the  flashlight  picture  of  the 
four  clergymen  clasping  hands  on  the  platform 
of  Presidio  Hall.  Over  this  was  a  flaming  cap 
tion  in  red—  "The  Millenium  Near.  A  New  Re 
ligion  !"  It  covered  half  of  the  page.  On  the  sec 
ond  page  was  a  cartoon,  representing  Dudley  as 
a  Judas,  selling  the  citizens  of  Presidio  for 
gold.  Under  this,  in  type  you  could  read  a  block 
away,  was  a  line—  "The  20th  Century  Judas  Is- 
cariot,  Selling  His  Soul  for  Pelf" 

The  whole  story  was  printed  in  lurid  colors, 
and  in  burning  words.  The  effect  was  shown  im 
mediately,  because  street  sales  of  The  Scimitar 
jumped  from  2,000  or  3,000  per  day  to  over 
20,000,  and  the  newsboys  reaped  a  rich  harvest. 

But  The  Tribune  and  The  Scimitar  were  not 


92    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

alone  in  their  glory.  The  Banner  made  its  ap 
pearance  on  the  streets,  and,  while  its  leaders 
were  less  sensational  than  The  Scimitar,  and  there 
was  a  lack  of  cartoons,  they  were  none  the  less 
direct  and  to  the  point.  Dudley  was  fighting, 
and  the  editorial  in  The  Banner ',  written  by  him 
self,  was  vitriolic  to  a  degree.  There  was  satire, 
ridicule  and  abuse,  such  as  only  a  man  of  Dud 
ley's  ability  could  write.  He  was  at  one  great 
disadvantage,  however;  he  was  not  in  a  position 
to  give  facts.  All  he  could  do  was  to  inject  his 
powerful  personality  and  bulldog  tenacity  into 
the  fray,  and  hope  to  win  by  brute  force.  He  had 
done  all  these  things  before,  and  had  beaten 
everybody.  Why  couldn't  he  do  the  same  thing 
now,  and  beat  this  man?  "A  preacher!  Huh!" 
he  thought,  "I'll  pulverize  him." 

Dudley's  thoughts  were  not  pleasant,  as  he 
came  out  of  his  house  to  go  downtown.  The 
shrill  cry  of  a  newsboy  greeted  his  ears,  "Extra! 
Tribune — all  about  franchise  fight.  First  blood 
for  Bishop  Anderson!"  It  was  an  unusual  thing 
for  newsboys  to  be  crying  their  papers  in  the  resi 
dential  district,  save  on  Sundays,  or  when  some 
big  item  of  news  came  out.  Evidently,  this  was 
a  big  item.  Dudley  sent  his  chauffeur  out  to  buy 
a  copy  of  the  paper,  and  when  the  man  returned 


MR.  CATON  DISAPPEARS  93 

the  chief  went  into  his  house,  locked  himself  in 
his  den,  and  read  every  word.  Then,  stuffing  it 
in  his  pocket,  he  was  driven  down  to  his  office. 
There  was  a  grim  look  on  his  face,  and  when  ac 
quaintances  bowed  to  him,  he  acknowledged  with 
a  very  curt  nod. 

Bursting  into  his  office  like  a  cyclone,  he  nearly 
knocked  Dennis,  the  waiting  office  boy,  off  his 
feet.  Throwing  his  auto  cap  and  gloves  at  the 
youngster,  he  said : 

"Where's  Mr.  Kearney?" 

"Out  in  the  city  room,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Get  him!"  he  commanded  in  gruff  tones. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Dennis,  beating  a  hasty  re 
treat. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Kearney,  cool  and  imper 
turbable,  came  in  the  door.  He  knew  why  he 
had  been  summoned. 

"Morning,  Chief!" 

"Morning,  Kearney,"  nodded  Dudley;  "seen 
the  papers  this  morning?" 

"Sure.    You?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"Where'd  you  get  'em?"  wonderingly  asked 
Kearney. 

"Where'd  I  get  'em?  Where  do  you  suppose? 
I  bought  them." 


94    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

The  idea  was  amusing  to  Kearney.  "You 
bought  The  Tribune!"  he  exclaimed;  "well,  by 
jinks,  you  are  worked  up,  aren't  you,  Jim?" 

"No,  I'm  not  worked  up — I'm  just  fighting 
mad,  that's  all." 

"You  show  it,  Dudley;  and  the  worst  part  of 
it  is,  for  once  the  opposition  have  got  you  hipped. 
All  you  can  do,  is  to  get  personal — and  that's 
dangerous.  You  know  that." 

Yes,  Dudley  did  know  that — all  too  well,  be 
cause  a  year  previous  he  had  had  the  pleasure  of 
paying  a  large  judgment  for  libel.  It  was  ex 
pensive  knowledge,  and  he  didn't  want  to  buy  any 
more. 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  libel  this — this  bishop, 
or  anyone  else,  but  I'm  going  to  lambast  him 
with  ridicule,  until  he's  sick.  Now,  you  beat  it, 
and  round  up  the  councilmen.  We  want  to  be 
cocksure  of  where  we  stand.  See  all  of  them,  and 
impress  upon  their  minds  the  necessity  of  not  be 
ing  carried  away  by  this  popular  clamor.  Get 
me?" 

"Sure,  I  get  you,  Jim,"  replied  Kearney.  "I 
reckon  when  it  comes  to  impressing  them,  I  am 
the  original  little  impresser,  eh?" 

"Oh,  you  know  your  business,  Kearney." 


MR.  CATON  DISAPPEARS  95 

"Sure,  and  I  know  yours,  too,  Jim.  Don't  for 
get  that." 

"Always  joking,  aren't  you,  Kearney,"  said 
Dudley,  with  the  semblance  of  a  grin.  With  all, 
his  gruffness,  he  liked  his  Irish- American  right 
bower.  Kearney  would  always  stand  hitched — 
of  that  he  was  sure. 

"Sure,  I  was  born  grinning,  and  when  I  die, 
I'll  give  St.  Peter  the  laugh,"  quietly  said  Kear 
ney. 

"All  right,  now  get  busy.  As  you  go  out,  send 
in  Miss  Mason." 

Miss  Mason  was  Dudley's  secretary. 

"Can't,"  said  Kearney. 

"Why?"  grunted  Dudley,  "sick?" 

"Sick?    No.    But  next  to  it — married." 

"Holy  mackerel,  Kearney !  How  many  secre 
taries  have  I  lost  in  the  past  year  through  mar 
riage?" 

"Only  three." 

Dudley  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said — 
"Suppose  we  try  to  break  that  hoodoo,  Kearney, 
eret  me  a  secretary  from  out  of  town.  Girls  here 

V 

will  be  thinking  The  Banner  is  a  matrimonial 
agency." 

"All  right,  Jim,"  said  Kearney,  "but  where  will 
I  get  one?" 


After  a  moment's  thought,  Dudley  said:  "Oh, 
send  a  wire  to  George  Moss,  of  The  Chicago  Mer 
cury.  He  must  know  of  a  lot  of  them,  and  he 
knows  my  nature  and  just  what  I  want." 

"All  right,  Jim.  S'long,"  replied  Kearney, 
and,  after  attending  to  the  matter,  he  became  a 
very  busy  man.  One  by  one  the  councilmen  were 
seen,  and  before  nightfall  he  knew  just  where 
Dudley  stood.  The  "old  guard"  he  could  depend 
on  to  the  last  ditch.  While  they  were  Dudley's 
men,  Kearney  issued  all  the  orders,  and  they 
would  follow  him  implicitly. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  opposition  led  by 
Bishop  Anderson  also  became  very  busy.  The 
seed  sown  at  the  mass  meeting  fell  on  fertile 
ground  and  bore  fruit.  Before  nightfall  of  the 
succeeding  day  every  councilman  began  to  re 
ceive  a  deluge  of  notes,  telephones,  and  messages 
from  his  constituents,  and — as  one  of  them  put  it 
— "It's  three  months  before  the  session,  which 
will  act  on  this  danged  ordinance,  and  if  this 
keeps  up,  we'll  all  be  dead."  And  you  may  be 
sure  Bishop  Anderson  intended  it  should  be  kept 
up  to  the  very  limit.  He  announced  it  at  the  next 
meeting,  which  was  held  a  week  follov/inoj1  the 
first.  There  were  to  be  a  series  of  m°etin!rs  held 


MR.  CATON  DISAPPEARS  97 

once  a  week  all  over  the  city,  so,  as  The  Scimitar 
put  it — "The  people  may  know." 

In  announcing  this  mode  of  action,  the  bishop 
illustrated  his  point  by  saying:  "My  friends, 
down  in  the  Mammoth  Cave,  Kentucky,  there 
was  a  huge,  rectangular  block  of  granite,  about 
six  by  four  by  four.  It  seemed  as  if  some  mighty 
hand  had  fashioned  this  stone,  so  even  were  its 
proportions.  It  was  located  in  the  middle  of  a 
vaulted  chamber,  over  forty  feet  in  height.  From 
the  dome  of  this  room  fell  a  drop  of  water.  An 
other  and  another,  every  few  seconds  with  the 
regularity  of  a  clock.  At  first  this  drop  of  water 
made  no  impression,  but,  as  each  succeeding  drop 
impinged  itself  upon  the  exact  spot  of  its  prede 
cessor,  the  surface  of  the  stone  began  to  soften, 
This  process  kept  up  for  hundreds,  nay,  perhaps, 
thousands  of  years,  but,  finally,  one  day  just  one 
drop  too  much  fell,  and  the  stone  was  split  asun 
der.  The  application  of  this  story  to  the 
present  situation  is  just  this:  Keep  everlastingly 
at  it — pound — pound — pound,  and  the  opposi 
tion  will  break.  It  cannot  help  it." 

And  they  did  keep  at  it,  much  to  the  discom 
fort  of  the  councilmen. 

That  night  Kearney  said  to  Dudley: 

"Jim,  I've  changed  my  mind;  Bishop  Ander- 


98    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

son  isn't  like  unto  Mother  O'Leary's  cow.  He's 
a  drop  of  water." 

Dudley  didn't  see  the  connection,  so  he 
grinned,  and  grunted — "Well,  we  can  brush 
away  a  drop  of  water  any  day." 

"Sure,  we  can,  but  another  drop  will  come  to 
take  its  place,  that's  what  I'm  afraid  of." 

"Well,  I'm  not  afraid,  if  you  are.  How  are  the 
men  lining  up  ?" 

"Just  fair,"  said  Kearney,  for  once  looking  se 
rious.  "Just  fair,  that's  all.  Beyond  question, 
the  bishop  is  making  an  impression — a  big  one. 
And  some  of  the  councilmen,  who  have  heretofore 
been  with  us,  have  already  flopped,  bag  and  bag 
gage,  and  others  are  preparing  to  do  so.  Still,  I 
reckon  I  can  hold  the  necessary  twelve." 

"Who's  flopped?"  retorted  Dudley.  "Why, 
Kearney,  you  know  there  are  men  in  that  coun 
cil  who  can't  flop.  We  can  put  the  thumbscrews 
on  them." 

"That's  a  cinch,  Dudley.  But  the  thumbscrew 
chaps  are  not  the  floppers.  It's  the  others.  Ca- 
ton,  for  instance,  is  a  very  uncertain  quantity." 

"Who?  Caton!"  exclaimed  Dudley  in  aston 
ishment,  "Caton  of  the  Sixth?" 

"That's  the  man." 

"Why,  confound  him,  I'll " 


MR.  CATON  DISAPPEARS  99 

"Steady,  Jim,  no  use  getting  hot  and  cursing 
Caton,  because  we  haven't  anything  on  him.  Best 
thing  to  do  is  to  get  him  out  of  town  for  awhile. 
He  needs  a  vacation.  If  I  can  keep  him  away 
from  the  influence  of  Bishop  Anderson  and  his 
crowd,  I  can  handle  him." 

"Well,  handle  him.  Get  him  out  of  town — 
keep  him  there.  You've  got  funds  for  that  pur 
pose,  if  necessary." 

"Dudley,  all  you  rich  men  think  of  is  money. 
It's  your  one  weapon.  Now,  we've  kept  within 
the  pale  of  the  law  in  every  fight,  but  it's  been 
mighty  hard  to  do,  sometimes.  We  won't  use  any 
money.  We're  going  to  appoint  Caton  a  special 
correspondent  of  The  Banner,  and  send  him  over 
to — let's  see,"  Kearney  stopped  and  thought  a 
moment — "to  Yuma,  Arizona,  to  write  up  society 
news." 

"Yuma!"  yelled  Dudley,  as  if  doubting  Kear 
ney's  sanity.  "We  don't  want  news  from 
Yuma." 

"I  know  that,"  laughed  Kearney.  "I  just  want 
to  bury  Caton  for  the  time  being.  I  reckon  we'll 
have  to  pay  him  pretty  well  for  his  work." 

"How  much?"  asked  Dudley. 

"Oh,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  bones  a  week, 
and  expenses,"  said  Kearney,  lighting  a  cigar. 


ioo  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Dudley  looked  at  his  man  for  a  moment,  and 
said:  "Kearney,  you're  a  wonder." 

Kearney  did  not  reply,  but  thought  to  himself : 
"Maybe  I  am  a  wonder,  but  wonders  sometimes 
change  and  become  ordinary  men." 

Caton  made  some  protest  when  the  proposition 
was  first  put  up  to  him.  But  Caton  was  amenable 
to  money  and  when  Kearney  mentioned  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  per  week  and  expenses,  he 
capitulated.  Caton's  sense  of  duty  towards  his 
constituents  was  measured  by  what  he  could  get 
out  of  them.  Therefore,  he  accepted  without  de 
lay,  and  that  night  Councilman  from  the  Sixth 
Ward  left  for  his  new  post — Yuma,  Arizona. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   BISHOP   ATTENDS   A   BALL  GAME 

BISHOP  ANDERSON  was,  indeed,  a  very  busy 
man  these  days.  In  the  first  place,  the  diocese 
must  needs  have  his  attention;  the  work  on  the 
new  cathedral  was  progressing  in  good  shape, 
and  already  could  be  seen  the  outlines  of  what 
some  day  was  to  be  a  magnificent  church.  He 
visited  all  of  his  parishes  regularly ;  boosted  weak 
churches,  and  praised  the  strong  ones,  and  grad 
ually  the  diocese  of  Presidio  began  to  be  a  busi 
ness  institution,  as  well  as  a  church.  But  outside 
of  all  this,  the  bishop  found  time  to  lead  the  po 
litical  fight  against  Dudley.  The  weather  be 
came  warm,  but  the  good  work  went  on.  There 
must  be  no  let  up  until  victory  was  assured. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  all  the  people  in 
Presidio  were  in  favor  of  the  bishop  leading  this 
fight.  On  the  contrary,  there  were  many — yea, 
even  in  his  own  church — who  opposed  him,  be- 

IOI 


102  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

cause  they  thought  it  was  beneath  his  dignity  as  a 
priest — beneath  him  in  every  way  as  a  man — to 
engage  in  what  they  were  pleased  to  term,  "a 
political  brawl."  Some  of  them  were  very  out 
spoken  in  their  denunciation.  They  wrote  letters 
to  The  Banner,  and  you  may  be  sure  this  journal 
published  them  all.  They  were  food  for  Dudley, 
especially  when  he  really  had  so  little  of  merit  on 
his  side  of  the  fight.  Even  in  church  meetings 
was  the  matter  discussed ;  but  the  bishop  had  an 
nounced  he  would  lead  the  church,  and  he  did. 
And  it  may  be  said  in  passing  that  no  less  a  per 
sonage  than  the  Rev.  Spencer,  the  man  who  had 
presented  Dr.  Anderson's  name  to  the  Presidio 
convention,  wrote  a  note  to  good  old  Bishop 
Turner,  telling  him  in  no  uncertain  words  of  the 
actions  of  his  protege,  and  wondering  if,  after  all, 
that  convention  hadn't  made  a  mistake. 

Bishop  Turner  was  not  a  little  worried  when  he 
received  Spencer's  communication,  and  wrote 
Bishop  Anderson,  who  smiled  when  he  read  this 
letter.  The  bishop's  answer,  however,  must  have 
carried  conviction,  because  Bishop  Turner,  in  re 
plying  to  the  Rev.  Spencer,  said:  "I  think  you 
have  a  mistaken  idea  of  Bishop  Anderson's  work 
in  this  fight  he  is  leading.  Just  keep  cool  and  fol 
low  his  lead,  and  you  won't  go  far  wrong." 


THE  BISHOP  ATTENDS  A  GAME    103 

One  warm  June  afternoon,  the  bishop  was 
somewhat  tired.  He  had  had  a  long,  hard  day  all 
around,  and  he  felt  the  need  of  rest  and  recre 
ation.  His  young  son,  aged  thirteen,  happened 
along  about  that  time,  and  the  bishop  said: 

"Bud,  let's  go  to  the  ball  game." 

"Sure  thing,  Daddy."    And  they  went. 

For  years  Presidio  had  trailed  in  the  baseball 
procession,  but  this  year  Charley  Kern,  a  new 
manager,  had  gotten  together  a  team  of  fighters, 
and  the  "Reds"  were  heading  their  league  by  a 
slender  margin.  Of  course,  having  a  winning 
team  increased  the  attendance — it  always  does— 
and  the  town  was  baseball  crazy.  The  bishop  and 
Bud  sat  in  the  fifty-cent  bleachers,  and  thor 
oughly  enjoyed  the  game — the  man  as  much  so 
as  the  boy.  It  was  a  close  game,  and  every  point 
counted.  The  "lucky  seventh"  came  along. 
"The  Reds"  were  one  run  behind — two  were  out, 
and  one  on — one  run  was  needed  to  tie  the  score, 
and  two  to  win,  when  Carey  came  to  the  bat.  It 
was  one  of  those  tense  moments  so  often  seen  at 
ball  games  when  ten  thousand  or  twenty  thousand 
ordinarily  sensible  human  beings  become  fren 
zied,  shrieking  maniacs;  and  the  crowd  in  Pre 
sidio  this  day  was  no  exception  to  tfhe  rule. 

When  Carey  approached  the  plate,  swinging 


104    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

two  big  bats,  every  eye  was  on  him.  Dropping 
one  bat,  he  swung  the  other  carelessly  over  his 
shoulder,  and  nonchalantly  stood  at  the  plate 
waiting.  "One  ball"— "one  strike"— "foul !" 
"Two  strikes'* — "two  balls,"  cried  the  umpire. 
"Hit  'er  out,  Carey!"  "Land  on  it!"  "Kill  it, 
man!"  shrieked  the  crowd,  and,  in  the  middle  of 
the  fifty-cent  bleachers,  Bishop  Anderson  was 
rooting  as  loudly  as  any  of  them.  He  and  Bud 
joined  in  that  mighty  chorus  of  shouts.  And 
Carey  did  "hit  'er  out."  He  caught  one  of  the  op 
posing  pitcher's  shoots  square  on  the  trade  mark, 
and  away  sailed  the  sphere,  high  over  the  heads 
of  the  infield.  The  three  outfielders  started  like 
mad  toward  the  soaring  ball.  The  audience  for 
one  second  held  their  breath — and  then  a  mighty 
shout  arose,  because  the  ball  gently  dropped  over 
the  fence.  A  home  run,  and  two  fleet-footed  run 
ners  crossed  the  home  plate! 

"Good  work,  Carey!"  shrieked  the  crowd. 

Bishop  Anderson  embraced  his  son  with  a  bear- 
like  hug,  and  shouted  out,  "Some  hit,  that!  Eh, 
Bud?" 

"Gee,  Dad,"  gleefully  replied  the  boy.  "Ca 
rey  knocked  that  ball  a  mile !" 

That  gave  the  "Reds"  a  lead  of  one  run,  and 
they  held  it  safe,  and  won  the  game.  After  the 


THE  BISHOP  ATTENDS  A  GAME    105 

contest  was  over  the  bishop  presented  a  rather 
sorry  sight.  His  collar  was  wilted.  Perspira 
tion  came  through  his  shirt  and  his  thin  coat,  and 
the  sun  had  burned  him  red.  But  his  mind  was 
rested.  He  had  seen  a  fine,  clean  contest,  be 
tween  manly  men,  and  his  side  had  won.  So  why 
shouldn't  he  be  happy  and  contented?  And  he 
was.  The  bishop  held  quite  a  reception  among 
the  bleacherites.  Every  one  knew  him,  and  men 
like  a  man  who  can  preach  God  on  a  Sunday 
and  root  for  the  home  team  on  a  Monday.  It 
represented  red  American  blood. 

There  was  another  interested  man  among  the 
spectators  at  this  game.  "Big  Chief"  Dudley, 
who,  with  two  of  his  personal  cronies,  occupied  a 
box  near  first  base — in  front  of,  and  to  the  left 
of  where  Bishop  Anderson  sat. 

During  that  wonderful  seventh  inning,  when 
Carey  did  his  good  work,  one  of  the  occupants  of 
the  chief's  box  observed: 

"Dudley,  just  cast  your  eyes  up  in  those  fifty- 
cent  bleachers — about  the  middle — and  you'll  see 
a  sight  good  for  your  eyes." 

"Where?'*  asked  Dudley,  turning. 

"There,"  pointing.  "See  that  clerical  gentle 
man  rooting  like  a  fiend.  Your  friend,  Bishop 
Anderson.  Some  rooter,  eh?" 


io6  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Rooter,  bosh,"  replied  Dudley;  "that's  noth 
ing  but  personal  advertising.  He's  been  doing 
that  ever  since  he  came  here.  But  he  won't  last," 
and  his  lips  curled  in  a  sarcastic  sneer. 

The  sight  of  the  bishop,  so  thoroughly  enjoy 
ing  himself,  was  to  Dudley  the  same  as  a  red  rag 
to  an  enraged  bull.  Now  he  positively  hated 
him. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  his  friend,  "he  sure  has 
this  crowd  on  the  jump." 

Dudley  made  no  audible  reply,  but  to  himself 
he  said:  "Wait  until  I  get  through  with  that  in 
fernal  bishop."  He  didn't  stay  for  the  finish,  but 
left  in  disgust  after  the  end  of  the  inning. 

One  of  his  friends  remarked,  as  he  stamped  out 
of  the  box :  "That  bishop  certainly  has  Dudley's 
goat."  He  had. 


CHAPTER  XI 

KEARNEY  REPORTS  TO   HIS   CHIEF 

DUDLEY'S  private  office  on  the  second  floor  of 
The  Banner  building  was  a  very  fine  one.  It 
overlooked  Main  Street,  and  was  a  good-sized, 
airy  and  comfortable  room.  A  large  fireplace 
was  in  the  center  of  the  wall,  between  two  win 
dows,  and  over  the  mantel  was  a  life-sized  oil 
painting  of  Dudley.  The  furniture  was  mahog 
any,  the  chairs  comfortable,  and  the  walls,  where 
soever  space  permitted,  were  lined  with  books. 
There  was  an  air  of  sumptuousness,  of  arrogance, 
yet  of  knowledge  about  the  place,  in  keeping  with 
the  character  of  its  occupant.  On  one  side  was  a 
door  leading  to  the  telegraph  office,  and  on  the 
other,  one  leading  to  the  reception  room  and  the 
office  of  Dudley's  private  secretary. 

At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  day  fol 
lowing  the  ball  game,  Kearney  came  into  Dud- 

107 


io8  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

ley's  office,  and  found  it  imtenanted,  save  for 
Dennis,  the  office  boy,  who  was  busily  engaged 
arranging  the  files  of  newspapers  on  a  rack  in  the 
corner.  Kearney  always  was  the  first  man  in  the 
morning.  Dudley  trusted  him  implicitly,  and 
never  a  move  did  the  "chief"  make  but  what 
Kearney  knew  every  detail.  Like  all  rich  men, 
Dudley  possessed  the  idea  that  money  can  do 
anything;  and  many  and  many  a  time  Kearney 
had  saved  Dudley  some  very  unpleasant  moments 
by  his  sage  counsel,  positive  action,  and  sound  ad 
vice.  More  than  once  had  Dudley,  bull-like, 
taken  a  run  for  the  hurdle  behind  which  stood 
the  law,  but  each  time  he  had  been  brought  up 
short  by  Kearney. 

Dudley's  record,  so  far  as  actual  violations  of 
the  law  were  concerned,  save  in  libel  suits, — and 
every  aggressive  paper  has  those — was  clean,  and 
it  was  all  due  to  Kearney,  who  had  a  wholesome 
respect  for  justice  aroused.  Kearney  would  do 
anything  to  win  a  point  in  a  game — that  is,  any 
thing  within  the  law.  Sometimes  he  would  strain 
a  point  so  the  applicable  law  would  bend;  but 
never  did  he  break  it. 

In  this  franchise  struggle  Kearney  knew  that 
Dudley,  left  to  himself,  would  do  anything  to 
win.  He  wouldn't  even  stop  at  bribery.  But 


KEARNEY  REPORTS  TO  HIS  CHIEF    109 

Kearney  would  have  none  of  that.  Bishop  An 
derson  was  raising  an  awful  row,  the  people  were 
thoroughly  aroused  at  last,  and  all  the  ele 
ments  of  right  and  justice  were  on  the  side  of  the 
American's  contention.  But  Kearney  knew  the 
Council — he  was  its  speaker — and  he  believed, 
nay,  he  knew  he  could  control  that.  As  the  fight 
grew  warmer,  he  watched  his  chief  closely;  he 
realized  if  one  false  move  were  made,  the  oppo 
sition  would  pounce  upon  it  like  a  hawk. 
There  were  many  people  in  Presidio  who  would 
have  been  more  than  glad  to  see  Dudley 
standing  at  the  bar  of  justice,  pleading  to  a 
criminal  indictment.  Kearney  liked  the  bishop 
immensely,  but  his  nature  had  become  so  in 
grained  with  Dudley's  personality,  due  to  long 
association  with  him,  that  he  fought  the  bishop 
on  general  principles.  It  was  a  great  fight- 
steel  against  steel — and  Kearney  enjoyed  every 
minute  of  it. 

The  evening  following  the  ball  game  there  had 
been  another  rousing  mass  meeting,  and  once 
more  Bishop  Anderson  and  the  other  speakers 
had  aroused  the  big  audience  to  a  perfect  frenzy 
of  enthusiasm.  Many  of  the  Council  had  been 
won  over,  and,  now  the  American  company  had 
a  fighting  chance,  if  .a  few  more  recalcitrant  mem- 


no  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

bers  of  the  Council  could  be  made  to  see  the  light 
of  reason. 

Kearney  was  glancing  over  Dudley's  personal 
mail — he  always  did  that — when  Dennis  ob 
served  : 

"Gee,  Mr.  Kearney,  there's  sure  some  doings 
around  this  office  these  days.  I  never  did  see  the 
boss  so  worked  up." 

"Well,  Sonny,"  replied  Kearney,  smiling,  "if 
you  had  as  much  on  your  mind  these  days  as  the 
'boss'  has,  you'd  be  worried,  too.  But,  that's  none 
of  our  business.  You  go  out  and  get  me  the  latest 
copies  of  The  Tribune  and  Scimitar"  Kearney 
wanted  to  know  just  what  the  opposition  had  to 
say  of  last  night's  meeting.  He  knew  about  what 
they  ought  to  say,  because  he  had  been  there.  He 
attended  all  these  meetings — it  was  part  of  his 
business. 

"All  right,  sir,"  replied  Dennis,  going  out. 

Kearney  knew  Dudley  probably  would  want 
to  give  some  advice  about  to-day's  editorial,  so  he 
called  the  editorial  room,  and  told  them  to  hold 
up  all  the  editorial  work  until  Mr.  Dudley  came. 

Dennis  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  the  de 
sired  papers,  and  said  in  boyish  enthusiasm: 

"Here  they  are,  Mr.  Kearney,  and  look  at  that 


KEARNEY  REPORTS  TO  HIS  CHIEF    in 

front  page  leader  in  The  Tribune.  Some  hot 
shot  there  for  Mr.  Dudley." 

Kearney  did  look,  and  grinned,  as  he  observed, 
"Yep,  Dennis,  as  you  say,  some  hot  shot  there, 
all  right!" 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  commotion 
in  the  outer  office.  No  need  to  inquire  the  cause 
—Dudley  had  arrived.  His  grumbling  voice,  as 
he  said,  "Tell  the  chauffeur  he  needn't  wait;  I'll 
send  for  him  when  I  want  him,"  indicated  his 
mood,  as  he  burst  into  the  room.  Throwing  his 
cap,  gloves  and  auto  coat  to  Dennis,  he  grunted : 

"Good  morning,  Kearney,"  going  to  his  desk 
and  sitting  down.  Kearney  stood  to  one  side  to 
allow  him  to  pass. 

"Morning,  Chief,"  he  replied.  "Some  fine 
day." 

"Sure,  what's  the  news?" 

Kearney  handed  him  the  copies  of  The  Tri 
bune  and  Scimitar  and  observed:  "Just  glance  at 
The  Tribune — first  page,  double-column  leader. 
There's  enough  news  for  one  morning." 

Dudley  took  the  papers  and  merely  looked  at 
them.  He  threw  them  to  one  side  in  disgust,  and 
said  with  a  snarl: 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Kearney?  A 
bishop  in  politics.  Do  you  know  I  don't  believe 


ii2     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

he  is  sincere  in  what  he  is  doing.  I  believe  he's 
only  fighting  because  he  doesn't  like  me." 

"Bosh!  Dudley,  you're  dreaming.  That's  not 
the  reason;  he  not  only  believes  he's  right,  he 
knows  he  is — and  so  do  you,  and  so  do  I.  But  he 
surely  has  reason  not  to  like  you.  What  the 
dickens  you  wanted  to  mix  up  in  a  church  fight 
for,  I  never  could  see.  The  paper  and  politics 
ought  to  keep  you  busy." 

"They  do,  but  I  really  wanted  Lamb  elected. 
He's  a  good  chap  and  minds  his  own  business. 
I  promised  it  to  him,  and  I  generally  keep  my 
promises.  That's  enough." 

With  mock  reverence  Kearney  raised  his  hands 
and  said:  "But  you  are  not  even  a  communicant 
of  that  church."  Kearney  was  the  only  man  who 
dared  to  take  any  liberties  with  Dudley. 

"I  know  I'm  not,"  said  Dudley.  "I  don't  be 
long  to  any  church,  but  I've  been  the  biggest  con 
tributor  to  St.  James'  and  St.  Margaret's  par 
ishes  until  this — this "  here  his  voice  indicated 

scorn,  "Anderson  came  along." 

"You  take  your  religion  on  the  pay-for-what- 
you-get  plan,  don't  you,  Jim?  Sort  of  a-la-carte, 
eh?" 

Dudley  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to 
Kearney's  tone  of  fun. 


KEARNEY  REPORTS  TO  HIS  CHIEF    113 

"Look  what  he's  done  since  he's  been  here — got 
a  lot  of  long-haired  men  and  short-haired  women 
to  put  up  the  money;  building  a  new  church! — 
what  was  the  matter  with  the  old  one?  Then 
worships  in  the  temple.  What  do  you  call  that — 
huh?"  Dudley  banged  his  fat  fist  on  the  desk. 

"I  call  it  class,"  briefly  said  Kearney.  "I  don't 
reckon  the  Almighty  takes  cognizance  of  a  build 
ing,  Dudley." 

"Class?  Rot!"  retorted  Dudley,  using  the 
same  expression  he  did  at  the  ball  game,  "per 
sonal  advertising.  You  ought  to  have  been  at  the 
ball  game  yesterday,  and  seen  this  godly  bishop 
standing  up  in  the  bleachers,  yelling  like  a  fiend 
to  Carey  to  'Hit  'er  out — hit  'er  out!  Paste  it, 
Carey!' '  Dudley  vividly  illustrated  just  what 
the  bishop  did.  Kearney  enjoyed  it  hugely  and 
grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  as  he  said: 

"Well,  Carey  'hit  'er  out,'  all  right.  The  Reds 
won." 

"It  made  me  so  everlastingly  disgusted,  I 
didn't  stay  for  the  finish." 

"Dudley,  tell  me,  what's  the  objection  to  a 
bishop's  rooting  at  a  ball  game?  He's  got  red 
blood  in  his  body,  the  same  as  you  and  I." 

"Grandstand  play,  man — just  grandstand, 
that's  all.  And  this  franchise  fight — what  does 


ii4  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

he  dabble  in  that  for?  Why  doesn't  he  run  his 
church  instead  of  principally  denouncing  me?" 

"Well,  a  bishop  votes,  why  shouldn't  he  speak 
as  he  pleases?" 

Dudley  paced  up  and  down  his  office — the  at 
titude  of  Kearney  was  getting  on  his  nerves. 
Turning  suddenly,  he  confronted  him  and  said: 

"Look  here,  Kearney,  you  talk  as  if  you  liked 
him." 

Kearney,  taking  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth, 
knocked  off  the  ashes  and  quietly  replied: 

"I  do.  He's  got  good  style,  and  he  fights 
straight  from  the  shoulder." 

Dudley  gazed  a  moment  in  speechless  aston 
ishment  at  his  man,  and  then  said:  "Well,  cut  it 
out!  I  would  have  let  him  alone  when  he  came 
here,  if  he  had  not  mixed  up  with  Flanagan  and 
his  gang.  But  now,  he's  in  too  deep,  and  I'm  go 
ing  to  beat  him  and  the  whole  Flanagan  crowd." 

Kearney  seemed  to  be  weighing  his  words  as 
he  replied:  "I  don't  know,  Chief.  He's  stirring 
up  considerable  fuss.  The  people  are  with  him, 
and  if  it  came  to  the  popular  vote  right  now, 
they'd  give  the  American  a  new  franchise 
quicker  than  scat!  You  know  that." 

"Ah!  but  that's  where  we've  got  'em,"  replied 
Dudley  with  glee;  "they  won't  have  a  chance  to 


KEARNEY  REPORTS  TO  HIS  CHIEF    115 

do  that.  You  and  your  Council  will  attend  to  the 
franchise  in  September.  You'll  give  a  fifty-year 
franchise  to  the  new  company,  we'll  get  the 
American  cheap,  and  there  you  are!"  The  "Big 
Chief"  rubbed  his  hands  together  as  if  in  antici 
pation  of  the  joy  he  would  experience  when  this 
luscious  plum  fell  in  his  already  overfull,  strong 
box. 

"Yep,"  answered  Kearney,  "there  you  are. 
You've  got  it  all  framed  up,  Dudley,  but  it  looks 
kind  of  hard  on  Flanagan  and  his  people.  They 
developed  their  system  in  the  early  days,  when 
Presidio  wasn't  much;  spent  a  lot  of  their  own 
money ;  borrowed  more ;  and  now,  when  the  plant 
is  paying  a  good  return — biff!  we  step  in  and 
take  it  away  from  them.  Pretty  rotten  sentiment 
I  call  it!" 

"Sentiment!  There's  no  sentiment  in  busi 
ness.  There  wouldn't  have  been  a  ripple  of 
trouble  but  for  this  bishop's  butting  in.  Now — 
now — I'm  going  to "  Just  what  he  was  go 
ing  to  do  seemed  lost  in  utterance,  because,  turn 
ing  to  Kearney,  he  said:  "See  here,  Pat,  you're 
getting  well  paid  for  what  you  do." 

Kearney  winced  slightly  and  said:  "Sure,  I  am, 
Dudley,  but  somehow  or  other  I  like  clean 
money." 


"Nonsense,  Kearney,  money  is  money,  no 
matter  how  you  get  it.  It  will  buy  anything." 

"Nix,  Jim,  there's  one  thing  it  won't  buy." 

"And  what's  that?" 

"Bishop  Anderson." 

Dudley  had  seated  himself  at  his  desk;  a  pe 
culiar,  grayish  look  spread  over  his  face.  For 
the  first  time  since  he  came  in  his  voice  was  quiet 
as  he  slowly  said,  "No,  I  don't  suppose  it  will." 
Immediately,  however,  he  became  himself  again. 
"But  we  are  going  to  find  a  weakness  in  him  some 
place." 

"So  you  said,  when  you  told  me  to  get  his  rec 
ord,"  replied  Kearney.  "Well,  I  got  it,  and  here 
it  is.  Want  to  hear  it?" 

"Yes,"  cried  Dudley,  all  eagerness ;  "I-do." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   BISHOP'S   RECORD 

TAKING  a  memorandum  from  his  pocket,  Kear 
ney  half  read,  and  half  talked  from  his  notes : 

"Fine  family — boyhood  spent  in  Iowa — grad 
uate  Naval  Academy — resigned — married — set 
tled  in  Des  Moines — took  priestly  orders — was 
Archdeacon  of  Utah — afterwards  had  several  big 
churches.  First  wife  died  fifteen  years  ago — re 
married  two  years  later.  Writer  of  note — last 
parish,  St.  George's,  Hillsburg,  Pennsylvania. 
Came  from  there  here,  at  reduction  in  salary. 
Served  as  chaplain,  Eastern  Volunteer  Regiment 
during  Spanish- American  War.  His  record  in 
Presidio  you  know.  Not  a  flaw  in  it,  Dudley. 
As  clean  as  a  hound's  tooth,"  Kearney  concluded, 
as  if  he  was  glad  the  bishop's  record  was  so  clean. 

Dudley  was  nonplussed,  as  he  heard  this  sketch 
of  the  man  he  wanted  to  crush. 

"No,  there  isn't  a  thing  there  I  can  use. 
117 


n8  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Served  in  both  Army  and  Navy,  hey!  I  sup 
pose  that's  where  he  gets  his  fighting  qualities 
from." 

"Well,  Dudley,"  retorted  Kearney,  "I  call  the 
American  Army  and  Navy  two  pretty  good 
schools  to  develop  a  fighter.  They  have  fighting 
down  to  an  absolute  science." 

"You  talk  like  the  Fourth  of  July,"  sneered 
Dudley.  He  was  disappointed. 

"No,"  continued  Kearney,  "but  an  Irishman 

loves  a  fighter.    That's  why  I  like  you.    Wait 

—here's   some   more   which   may   add   to   your 

gaiety."    Kearney  relighted  his  half -burnt  cigar. 

"Bishop  Anderson  has  a  brother,  also  a  fighter, 
because  he,  too,  served  in  both  branches  of  the 
service.  Eight  months'  enlisted  man,  Marine 
Corps  of  the  Navy.  Discharged  by  order,  then 
enlisted  in  army.  Served  two  years  and  four 
months  as  an  enlisted  man,  finally  working  his 
way  up  to  a  commission.  Is  an  expert  telegra 
pher,  and  has  a  brilliant  military  record.  Medal 
of  honor  man  for  bravery  at  Santiago  in  '98 — re 
signed  from  army  when  father  died — was  married 
and  wife  divorced  him  two  years  before  resigna 
tion  from  service.  Don't  know  whether  anything 
scandalous  in  divorce  or  not.  Settled  in  Chicago, 
living  there  ever  since  doing  confidential  work  for 


THE  BISHOP'S  RECORD  119 

banks  and  big  corporations — sort  of  refined  secret 
service.  Not  much  on  the  surface,  but  might  find 
something  hidden  the  bishop  wouldn't  care  to 
have  known." 

Dudley  felt  a  gleam  of  hope  as  he  heard  of  this 
brother's  record.  Maybe  there  was  something 
that  he  could  use.  That  divorce  sounded  prom 
ising. 

"What's  his  name?"  he  asked. 

"Captain  John  Edmond  Anderson,"  replied 
Kearney,  consulting  his  notes. 

"Blast  his  title — his  name  is  enough." 

"Well,  from  what  we  know,  I  reckon  he  earned 
that  title,"  said  Kearney. 

"Never  mind  about  that — what  I  want  you  to 
do  is  to  find  out  the  brother's  record,  and  that  of 
any  one  else  connected  with  the  bishop.  I  don't 
care  how  you  find  it — just  so  you  get  it!" 

"Yes,  Jim,  I  anticipated  you  on  that  point  as 
soon  as  I  found  out  the  bishop  had  a  brother. 
I've  already  started  the  wires  and  some  informa 
tion  is  here  now,  and  I  expect  more  every  mail." 

"Good,  Kearney,  good!  Keep  at  it,  and  some 
thing  is  bound  to  turn  up.  It  must." 

The  interview  so  far  as  Dudley  was  concerned 
was  at  an  end.  But  Kearney  wasn't  through. 
He  had  something  on  his  mind,  and  must  get  it 


120  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

off.  The  chief  busied  himself  with  some  papers 
— apparently  forgetting  Kearney,  but  that  made 
no  difference  to  him.  He  sat -down  by  Dudley's 
desk,  and,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar,  proceeded  with 
what  he  had  to  say. 

"Dudley,  I've  been  with  you  for  many  years." 

"Sure,  I  know  that,  Kearney,  and  a  faithful 
friend  you  have  been,"  replied  Dudley,  looking 
up.  The  expression  on  Kearney's  face  caused 
him  to  cease  work  entirely  and  lean  back  in  his 
chair. 

"I  came  here  when  you  bought  up  the  old  Ban 
ner,  and  I've  helped  you  make  it  a  great  paper. 
I've  seen  you  wax  rich  in  money  and  power,  and, 
in  every  fight  you've  had,  I've  been  trailing  right 
along,  helping."  Dudley  started  to  interrupt, 
but  Kearney  continued,  raising  one  hand  as  if  in 
protest : 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  about  pay — I'll  admit 
that;  and  I've  never  given  you  a  bum  steer  yet. 
Now  I  want  to  give  you  a  tip."  He  leaned  back 
over  the  desk  and  looked  Dudley  squarely  in  the 
eyes. 

"I've  got  a  great,  big,  fair-sized  working  hunch 
you  are  in  wrong  on  this  franchise  fight.  You 
might  have  put  it  over,  probably  could,  if  this 
bishop  hadn't  jumped  in." 


THE  BISHOP'S  RECORD  121 

Quick  as  a  flash  Dudley  came  back  at  him : 

"What  are  you  doing,  preaching  me  a  ser 
mon?" 

Kearney  smiled.  The  editor's  outbursts  never 
caused  him  a  moment's  worry. 

"No,  Jim,  not  preaching  at  all.  I  said  I  was 
giving  you  a  tip.  Let  that  sink  in.  Bishop  An 
derson  has  this  old  town  on  the  jump.  We 
thought  the  first  meeting  was  a  flash  in  the  pan, 
but  see  how  the  interest  keeps  up.  I've  attended 
every  one  of  them  and  I'll  confess  it  beats  me! 
The  same  crowd  keeps  with  the  bishop — Rabbi 
Wise,  Dr.  Arnold  and  Father  Leahy  were  there, 
as  usual,  but  the  bishop  was  the  big  noise.  Coun- 
cilmen  are  getting  a  line  on  how  you  stand  with 
the  public.  Even  I  am  getting  it.  The  people, 
generally,  fail  to  understand  my  loyalty  to  you." 

"You!"  laughed  Dudley — "well,  it's  not  a  new 
experience  for  you.  You've  been  pounded  be 
fore.  So  have  I,  many  a  time — but  we've  always 
come  through  on  top." 

"All  true,  Chief — all  true.  But  it  gets  on  my 
nerves  to  have  men,  yes,  and  women  and  children, 
too,  in  this  old  town  whisper  nasty  things  about 
me.  And  their  whispers  aren't  so  quiet  but  what 
they  can  be  heard  about  a  block  away." 

A  peculiar  feeling  came  over  Dudley  as  this 


122  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

man  stood  before  him,  and,  in  a  quiet  voice,  de 
livered  his  little  talk.  Evidently,  Kearney  was 
weakening,  according  to  Dudley's  apprisementj 
and  that  would  never  do.  The  chief  knew  full 
well  if  the  leader  dropped  the  fight  the  council, 
as  a  body,  would  melt  away  from  his  scheme  like 
mist  before  a  summer's  sun. 

Dudley  leaned  over  the  desk,  and  placed  a 
heavy  hand  on  Kearney's  arm ;  then,  as  kindly  as 
his  gruff  nature  would  allow,  he  began  to  talk. 

"Come,  Pat,"  said  he,  with  a  slight  huskiness  in 
his  voice.  "You  know  what  this  fight  means  to 
me ;  you  know  my  position  is  impregnable.  You 
also  know  I've  never  been  licked,  and,  by  the 
great  horn  spoon,  I'm  not  going  to  be  now!" 
The  solemnity  of  his  utterance  left  no  doubt  but 
that  he  meant  every  word.  Kearney  eyed  his 
chief  carefully,  wondering  at  his  intensity.  But 
the  mood  was  on  him  to  speak  his  mind  freely, 
and  he  shot  back  at  once : 

"That's  what  John  L.  Sullivan  said,  but  there's 
always  a  first  time,  you  know.  Sullivan  realized 
it  after  he  had  been  beaten  to  a  pulp.  By  jim- 
iny,  I  never  could  get  it  into  my  head  why  you 
went  into  this  franchise  fight.  What  do  you  want 
a  gas  company  for?  You've  got  all  the  money 
you  need;  The  Banner  gives  you  an  income  yon 


THE  BISHOP'S  RECORD  123 

can't  spend,  and  you  haven't  a  chick  or  a  child  to 
leave  it  to." 

Dudley  looked  in  amazement  at  Kearney,  who 
chewed  his  cigar  nonchalantly,  and,  suddenly, 
continued  with  what  he  had  to  say: 

"Dudley,  this  is  the  truth.  Bishop  Anderson  is 
under  your  hide.  It's  your  pride  that's  fighting 
—your  heart  isn't  in  it." 

Big  Chief  Dudley  sat  for  a  moment  as  if  think 
ing  of  what  Kearney  had  said.  There  was 
a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes.  Unconsciously,  his 
hand  grasped  a  round  glass  paper  weight,  which 
he  raised  up  until  his  eyes  rested  on  the  picture 
of  a  sweet  girlish  face  looking  into  his  own.  All 
at  once  his  shoulders  drooped  as  if  years  had  sud 
denly  been  added  to  his  life.  Kearney  stood  still 
and  watched.  Also  he  hoped.  But  the  incident 
was  all  over  in  a  second,  and  the  man  before  him 
again  became  the  fighting  editor.  Pushing  the 
weight  away  from  him,  he  straightened  rigidly 
and  went  on  in  his  usual  harsh  voice : 

"Never  mind  what  I'm  fighting  for — or  with. 
The  simple  fact  is  that  I  am  fighting — and  you'll 
fight  with  me.  That's  all  there  is  to  it!" 

Kearney  raised  his  hands  in  despair.  "All 
right,"  said  he,  "all  right,  Jim,  I  get  you."  He 
had  tried  his  best  to  set  Dudley  right  and  had 


124  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

failed.  There  was  nothing  else  for  him  to  do  but 
fight  along  with  the  Big  Chief.  At  this  moment, 
Dennis,  the  office  boy,  came  in,  and,  bowing  to 
Dudley,  announced:  "A  lady  to  see  you,  sir,"  and 
placed  an  engraved  card  before  him. 

Big  Chief  Dudley  was  not  sorry  that  the  inter 
ruption  came.  Kearney  was  in  a  mood  he  didn't 
like,  and  he  wanted  the  interview  terminated. 
Looking  at  the  card,  he  read :  "Miss  Mary  Sher 
man." 

"All  right,  Dennis,  show  the  lady  in.  And, 
Kearney,  you  go  out  in  the  editorial  room  and  see 
how  things  are  and  come  back  and  let  me  know." 

Kearney  moved  toward  the  door,  just  in  time 
to  meet  Dennis,  showing  in  Dudley's  new  caller. 
He  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  and  muttered  to 
himself — "Peach!"  Meanwhile,  Dennis  pointed 
toward  the  massive  man  seated  at  a  desk  and  said : 
"That's  Mr.  Dudley,  Miss." 

A  moment  later  she  stood  before  the  great  edi 
tor,  and  blushed  rosily,  as  he  peered  deeply  into 
her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   ARRIVAL   OF    MARY   SHERMAN 

To  describe  Mary  Sherman,  one  needs  must 
have  the  pen  of  a  poet,  or  the  brush  of  an  artist — 
tall,  slender,  dark  hair  and  flashing  black  eyes — 
eyes  which  looked  like  deep  pools,  through 
which  shone  her  very  soul.  Her  lashes  were  long 
and  sweeping.  Her  face  oval — mouth  rather 
large,  showing,  when  she  smiled,  two  rows  of 
straight  white  teeth.  Her  lips  were  red  and  her 
cheeks  glowed  with  health — not  rouge.  Her  cos 
tume  consisted  of  a  plain  but  soft  and  pretty 
shirt  waist,  and  a  dark,  tailor-made  skirt,  from 
under  the  hem  of  which  peeped  two  slender  feet. 
On  her  queenly  head  was  a  fetching  Panama  hat, 
and,  as  she  stood  before  the  editor,  she  made  a 
beautiful  picture. 

As  gruff  as  he  was,  Dudley  could  not  help  but 
admire  his  visitor.  He  paused,  pencil  poised,  and 
said: 

125 


126     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"You  wish  to  see  me,  Miss?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  sir,  from 
Mr.  Moss,  of  Chicago,"  at  the  same  time  handing 
him  the  note.  Mary  Sherman's  voice  was  as 
beautiful  as  her  face  and  figure — a  pure,  rich,  nat 
ural  contralto.  Her  smile  was  dazzling,  and,  as 
Dudley  took  the  proffered  letter,  he  said:  "Oh, 
yes,  from  George  Moss,  eh!"  Breaking  the  seal, 
he  read  aloud:  "This  will  introduce  to  you  Miss 
Mary  Sherman.  You  said  you  wanted  a  secre 
tary,  and  she  is  as  good  as  they  make  them — etc. 
— etc."  Looking  up  at  Mary  Sherman  the  edi 
tor's  stare  became  almost  insolent.  Said  he,  "So 
you  want  to  be  my  private  secretary,  eh?  Sit 
down."  His  gruff  voice  and  shortness  of  manner 
were  rather  disconcerting,  although  Mr.  Moss 
had  warned  her  that  Dudley  was  an  "old  bear," 
but  a  good  man  to  work  for.  She  simply  smiled, 
sat  down,  and  replied: 

"Thank  you,  yes,  sir;  Mr.  Moss  was  kind 
enough  to  write  that  letter  and  send  me  out  here." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  broke  in  Dudley,  "I  asked 
Moss  to  send  me  a  new  secretary  when  my  last 
one  got  married.  That's  the  trouble  with  you 
women — especially  pretty  ones.  You  work  for 
a  man  until  you  become  useful,  well-nigh  indis 
pensable,  and  then,  pst!  Some  twenty-dollar- a- 


THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MARY  SHERMAN   127 

week  chap  comes  along,  and  off  you  go.  You 
don't  know  when  you  are  well  off."  Dudley  was 
attempting  to  be  humorous,  but  his  attempt  was 
rather  a  grim  failure. 

Mary  just  smiled  and  said:  "But  you  won't  be 
troubled  with  me  that  way,  Mr.  Dudley." 

"That's  what  they  all  say,  but  it  has  been  my 
observation,  Miss  Sherman,  that  a  pretty  woman 
who  isn't  engaged  or  married,  has  been  disap 
pointed  in  love,  or "  and  here  he  looked  at  the 

girl  very  narrowly — "or  she  has  had  an  experi 
ence." 

Mary  Sherman's  eyes  never  wavered  for  an  in 
stant  as  she  gazed  back  at  her  new  employer. 
Perhaps  there  was  just  a  faint  suspicion  of 
heightening  color,  as  she  smiled,  and  said: 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mr.  Dudley?'* 

"I  know  so,  and  sooner  or  later  it  comes  out. 
But,  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  George 
Moss  says  you're  a  competent  secretary,  and  I'll 
take  his  word  for  it.  You  must  thoroughly 
understand  one  thing,  Miss  Sherman,  my  secre 
tary  must  be  all  eyes  and  ears,  and  have  no  mouth. 
She  must  see  everything,  hear  everything,  and 
say  nothing.  There  will  be  lots  going  on  around 
this  office  you  will  see  and  hear.  But  you  know 
nothing,  save  so  far  as  /  want  you  to  know." 


128  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"I  understand  you,  Mr.  Dudley." 

"I  am  brusque  and  blunt,"  continued  the  edi 
tor,  "and  always  have  a  fight  on  my  hands.  I've 
got  one  now." 

"Don't  you  do  anything  else  but  fight,  Mr. 
Dudley?  Haven't  you  any  time  for  pleasure?" 

Dudley  hadn't  fully  recovered  from  his  inter 
view  with  Kearney  and  here  was  this  slip  of  a 
girl  continuing  along  the  same  lines.  He  would 
show  her  right  off  the  reel  what  manner  of  a  man 
he  was.  So  he  roared  out : 

"Pleasure!  Young  lady,  what  greater  pleas 
ure  could  I  have  than  winning  a  fight  ?  Why,  my 
philosophy  of  life  is — fight  somebody!  fight  him 
in  front  if  I  can ;  in  the  flank,  if  necessary ;  smash 
him  in  the  rear  if  I  must — just  so  I  smash  him! — 
always,  of  course,  if  he  needs  smashing.  Most  of 
'em  do  I" 

There  were  not  many  signs  of  human  sympa 
thy  about  this  man  as  he  faced  the  young  woman 
and  continued: 

"That's  the  spirit  around  this  office — fight. 
Every  one  is  a  fighter,  from  the  office  boy  up — 
and  you'll  be  one  of  us." 

"I'll  try,  Mr.  Dudley.  Women  do  make  good 
fighters — sometimes." 

"You  are  right,  Miss  Sherman.     Once  let  a 


THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MARY  SHERMAN   129 

woman  become  aroused  to  a  point  where  she  real 
izes  she  has  to  fight  for  what  she  considers  her 
rights — then  Heaven  help  the  man !  She  can  lick 
a  dozen  of  them." 

A  peal  of  silvery  laughter  greeted  this  sally  of 
Dudley's,  and  it  sounded  good  to  him. 

"But  in  your  fighting,  Mr.  Dudley,  do  you  ever 
consider  the  men  you  smash?  What  of  them?" 

"That's  their  look  out — not  mine,"  grimly  re 
plied  the  chief.  "Now,  do  you  understand  my 
nature  ?  Your  hours  will  be  from  nine  until  five, 
and  sometimes  in  the  evening.  My  evening  work 
I  do  here  and  at  my  house.  When  you  work  at 
my  home  my  housekeeper  will  care  for  you  for 
the  night.  If  we  work  here,  I'll  send  you  to  your 
home  in  my  car.  Your  pay  will  be  a  hundred  a 
month,  and  time  and  a  half  for  extra  work.  Sat 
isfactory?" 

"Perfectly,  thank  you,  and  I'll  do  my  best." 

"All  right.    When  did  you  get  here?" 

"Last  evening  at  nine  o'clock." 

"Find  a  place  to  stay  yet?" 

"Oh,  yes.  Mr.  Moss  wrote  to  a  friend  of  his — 
Mrs.  Fenton  by  name.  She  met  me  at  the  train, 
and  has  very  kindly  given  me  a  room." 

"Fenton?"  said  Dudley,  musing,  "Mrs.  Fen- 
ton — where  does  she  live?" 


130  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"At  the  corner  of  Twenty-ninth  and  Wind- 
grove  Avenue,  I  believe.  It's  just  opposite  a 
very  pretty  park." 

Dudley  started.  His  eyes  glittered,  as  he 
leaned  forward,  and  said:  "Twenty-ninth  and 
Windgrove  Avenue — that's  strange.  There's  a 
new  church  going  up  out  there — isn't  there?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  there  is  on  the  north  side,  facing 
the  park." 

Dudley  arose  from  his  chair,  took  three  or  four 
steps,  and  then,  turning  to  the  astonished  girl, 
said: 

"That's  it— St.  Clement's  Cathedral." 

"Oh,  an  Episcopalian  church.  I'm  glad  of  that 
— it  will  be  convenient  for  me  to  attend." 

The  editor  looked  at  her  very  intently,  and 
said: 

"Are  you  an  Episcopalian?" 

"Yes,  I  am,  why?  Any  objection,  Mr.  Dud 
ley?" 

The  chief  paused  a  moment  before  replying, 
and  then,  looking  at  the  woman,  said:  "No,  only 
this — the  Episcopalian  bishop,  Dr.  Anderson,  is 
the  man  I  am  fighting  now.  He's  building  that 
cathedral" 

Mary  Sherman  started  slightly. 

"Fighting  a  church!    Why,  Mr.  Dudley!" 


THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MARY  SHERMAN   131 

He  interrupted :  "No,  not  fighting  a  church — 
just  the  man,  Anderson.  He's  opposing  me  in 
matters  that  don't  concern  him." 

This  was  interesting  to  the  girl,  who  was,  in 
deed,  learning  many  things  during  her  first  day 
in  Presidio. 

"And  the  bishop,"  she  asked;  "is  he  fighting 
back?" 

Dudley  took  three  steps  towards  his  desk, 
picked  up  the  copy  of  that  morning's  Tribune, 
and,  gritting  his  teeth,  said : 

"Is  he  fighting  back  ?  I  should  say  he  is!  That 
is  about  all  he  is  doing  these  days."  He  threw  the 
paper  from  him  in  disgust. 

Miss  Sherman  watched  him  coolly. 

"But  the  bishop  is  building  a  church  as  well. 
You  just  told  me  that." 

Sitting  down  to  his  desk,  Dudley  replied  impa 
tiently:  "Yes,  he  is.  But  see  here,  young  lady, 
this  isn't  a  conversatione.  It's  time  we  get  to 
work."  Touching  a  button,  which  called  Den 
nis,  he  continued:  "Dennis,  show  Miss  Sherman 
her  office.  And  when  you  get  ready,  Miss  Sher 
man,  come  back  here — and  always  bring  your 
notebook  with  you." 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  quick  answer  of  the  secre 
tary,  as  she  followed  Dennis  out. 


132  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

To  herself  she  said:  "I  think  I  am  going  to 
like  this  place.  With  all  his  gruffness,  I  believe 
Mr.  Dudley  has  a  heart." 

As  she  and  Dennis  left  the  editor's  office,  she 
met  Kearney  coming  in,  and  once  more  the  Irish 
man  failed  to  conceal  his  admiration  for  the 
pretty  woman.  Advancing  to  Dudley's  desk, 
Kearney  waited  until  the  editor  had  finished  sign 
ing  some  papers,  and  then  said: 

"Dudley,  I  just  got  a  letter  from  Hensen,  our 
New  York  man,  about  Bishop  Anderson's 
brother,  and  I  believe  we  are  on  a  warm  trail.  It 
appears  this  Captain  Anderson  is  mixed  up  with 
a  Miss  Phyllis  Carew — 'Miss'  on  suspicion,  be 
cause  she  is  a  grass  widow ;  has  a  past — a  pippin 
at  that.  Anderson  wants  to  marry  her,  but  the 
girl  disappeared  three  months  ago." 

Dudley's  eyes  gleamed,  as  he  heard  this  report. 
It  was  the  first  encouraging  thing  he  had  heard 
in  weeks.  He  fairly  shouted: 

"Good,  now  we  are  getting  somewhere. 
Here's  where  I  break  Bishop  Anderson's  soul  on 
the  rack  of  public  ridicule." 

"Steady,  Dudley,"  said  Kearney,  raising  a 
warning  hand;  "not  so  loud.  I  hear  you." 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  hear  me,"  said  the  editor. 

"I  can,"  answered  Kearney,  "so  can  every  one 


THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MARY  SHERMAN   133 

else  in  the  building."  Dennis,  coming  in  just 
then,  had  heard,  but  he  merely  handed  Dudley 
a  card,  with  his  stereotyped  "Gentleman  to  see 
you,  sir,"  and  was  ready  to  get  out  as  soon  as  he 
said  it. 

Dudley  took  the  card,  looked  at  it,  appeared 
dazed,  tore  it  up,  threw  the  bits  in  the  waste- 
basket,  and  shrieked  with  anger: 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!  Tell  him  I  won't  see 
him." 

Kearney  wondered,  as  he  moved  towards  his 
chief,  while  the  thoroughly  affrighted  Dennis 
whispered,  "Yes,  sir,"  and  started  to  leave. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will  see  me,  Mr.  Dudley,"  said 
another  voice,  "because  I  am  here  now,"  and 
there,  standing  in  the  doorway,  was  Bishop  An 
derson,  and  his  voice  was  pitched  in  the  same 
tone  he  would  use  at  a  ladies'  reception.  A  de 
cided  contrast  to  the  snarl  of  Dudley.  His  six 
feet  two  of  sturdy  manhood  seemed  to  fill  the 
doorway,  as  he  stood  there  for  a  moment  before 
entering  the  room. 

"Kearney,  throw  him  out!"  shrieked  the  en 
raged  editor.  All  semblance  of  reason  had  fled. 
Dennis  slipped  out,  determined  not  to  stick 
around  too  close.  However,  he  scented  trouble, 
and,  boy-like,  he  wanted  to  be  near. 


I34  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

The  bishop  slowly  approached  the  irate  editor 
with  the  measured  steps  he  might  have  used  in 
following  his  choir  boys  as  they  sang  the  pro 
cessional  in  c' mrch. 

"No,  Mr.  Kearney  won't  throw  me  out,"  look 
ing  towards  that  gentleman  and  smiling,  "for  two 
good  reasons.  First,  because  from  his  name  I 
take  it  he's  Irish  and  believes  in  fair  play — and, 
secondly,  I  don't  believe  he  could."  Evidently, 
Kearney  agreed  with  him,  as  he  made  no 
effort. 

Just  then  Mary  Sherman  re-entered  the  room, 
notebook  in  hand.  She  saw  the  tenseness  of  the 
situation,  but  going  up  to  the  editor's  desk,  said 
very  quietly:  "You  wished  me  to  return,  Mr. 
Dudley." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  and  said:  "Well, 
I  don't  want  you  now."  Then  a  thought  seemed 
to  strike  him.  It  would  be  a  good  chance  to  show 
this  bishop  a  thing  or  two.  When  his  secretary 
started  to  go  out,  he  yelled  at  her : 

"Wait!  I  do  want  you.  Sit  down."  The  girl 
obeyed. 

Dudley  turned  to  Kearney.  "Hand  me  that 
letter  you  received  a  while  ago."  Kearney  com 
plied,  wondering.  Then  he  heard  his  chief  say: 
"Write :  To  Hensen,  care  of  our  New  York  office 


THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MARY  SHERMAN   135 

— Find  out  all  about  the  Carew  woman."  For 
some  unaccountable  reason  Mary  Sherman's  pen 
cil  point  broke.  Quickly  taking  another  one  she 
wrote  as  dictated — "especially  about  the  scandal 
concerning  her,"  continued  Dudley.  "Locate 
husband  and  other  man,  also  find  her,  use  every 
effort.  Quick  work.  Important  results  pend 
ing  on  this  information."  Glaring  at  the  bishop, 
he  shouted:  "Now,  then,  put  that  on  the  wire  im 
mediately.  There's  the  telegraph  office  lo  the 
right." 

Mary  Sherman  took  up  the  notebook,  and 
started  to  obey.  At  the  door  of  the  telegraph 
room  she  turned  and  asked:  "What  was  the  wo 
man's  name,  Mr.  Dudley?" 

"C-A-R-E-W!"  he  cried.  "Carew!  Hensen 
will  understand." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  girl,  closing  the  door 
with  a  bang. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MEETING   OF   THE   TITANS 

THE  situation  in  the  editor's  private  office  was 
tense  in  the  extreme.  Here  were  two  strong  men 
fighting  on  opposite  sides  of  a  great,  public  ques 
tion — and  each  the  leader  of  his  respective  fac 
tion.  The  only  difference  was  that  the  bishop 
fought  in  the  open  so  that  all  might  hear  and 
know,  while  the  editor  fought  from  behind  his 
barricade  of  might,  money  and  unscrupulous 
power — moving  his  men  as  might  an  expert  chess 
man.  Dudley  was  versed  in  every  known  politi 
cal  trick  and  would  not  hesitate  to  use  any  of 
them  that  suited  his  purpose.  The  bishop  knew 
nothing  of  politics  or  chicanery,  but  possessed  a 
sublime  faith  in  the  righteousness  of  his  cause. 
Likewise,  he  was  entirely  confident  of  ultimate 
success.  The  editor  was  strengthened  through 
having  as  his  lieutenant  the  faithful  Kearney — 

136 


MEETING  OF  THE  TITANS        137 

a  man  who  knew  his  every  whim  and  could  an 
ticipate  his  every  thought  with  seeming  fidelity. 
Here  was  a  man  whose  worldly  education  had 
been  directly  under  Dudley  and  men  of  his  type. 
Started  aright,  Kearney  might  have  become  a 
diplomat  of  high  order,  but  now  he  had  become 
so  thoroughly  steeped  in  Dudley's  way  of  think 
ing  that  he  moved  his  men  as  ordered  and  did  as 
he  was  told.  Deep  down  in  his  heart,  however, 
there  was  an  innate  sense  of  fair  play,  which 
made  him  greatly  admire  the  fighting  bishop. 
Nevertheless,  he  muttered  to  himself:  "He's  got 
some  nerve  to  come  in  here  and  face  old  Dudley 
in  his  own  den.  He's  the  first  man  who  ever 
dared  to  try  it — let  alone  do  it.*  He  started  to 
leave  the  room,  when  the  bishop  spoke : 

"Just  a  moment,  Mr.  Kearney — I  should  be 
more  than  glad  to  have  you  remain." 

Kearney  looked  at  Dudley,  who  was  white 
and  so  beside  himself  with  anger  that  he  did  not 
see  his  companion  in  the  deal.  Then  the  Irish 
man  decided  to  remain — "to  see  the  fun,"  as  he 
thought.  He  listened  intently  while  with  all  the 
scorn  in  his  gross  make-up,  the  editor  snarled : 

"Now,  Bishop  Anderson,  you  say  Kearney 
can't — or  won't — throw  you  out.  Well,  I'll  get 
some  one  who  will!"  With  that  he  leaped  to  his 


138  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

feet  and  reached  for  a  push-button.  Bishop 
Anderson,  alert,  anticipated  this  action,  and  in 
stantly  grasped  the  irate  editor's  wrist  in  his 
strong  right  hand. 

"Wait!"  commanded  the  bishop,  eyes  glisten 
ing  like  steel  beads.  "You  seem  to  forget,  Mr. 
Dudley,  the  amenities  of  polite  society.  Now,  I 
am  a  gentleman,  and  I  assume  you  claim  to  be  a 
gentleman.  So  I  ask  you  in  all  kindness,  as  a 
gentleman,  to  sit  down!"  There  was  no  mistak 
ing  the  bishop's  tone.  He  meant  his  words. 
Dudley  knew  this  and  it  seemed  the  better  part  of 
valor  to  obey.  Not  that  he  was  lacking  in  physi 
cal  courage,  but  for  the  reason  that  he  had  good 
sense  enough  to  know  that  a  personal  altercation 
with  the  bishop  could  not  but  turn  out  to  his  own 
disadvantage.  He  realized  that  the  bishop  surely 
would  prove  to  be  his  master.  Therefore  it  was 
with  as  good  grace  as  possible  he  dropped  in  his 
chair  and  waited,  while  his  self-appointed  guest 
wiped  his  hands  with  his  handkerchief  as  if  to 
destroy  his  contact  with  his  host's  fleshy  wrist. 
Turning  toward  the  amazed  Kearney,  he  said : 

"You,  too,  be  seated,  Mr.  Kearney,  because  I 
feel  we — just  the  three  of  us — are  going  to  have 
a  real  pleasant  little  visit." 

"Mur deration!"  mentally  exclaimed  Kearney, 


MEETING  OF  THE  TITANS        139 

as  he  seated  himself  by  the  mantel,  "Daniel  in  the 
lion's  den !" 

As  the  bishop  sat  down,  Dudley  snapped  out: 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

There  was  a  faint  suspicion  of  a  smile  around 
the  corners  of  the  bishop's  mobile  mouth,  as  he 
replied : 

"Just  a  moment,  Mr.  Dudley.  In  times  of 
great  stress  men  like  something  to  sooth  their 
nerves.  Some  drink — but  I  smoke."  And  suit 
ing  the  action  to  his  words,  he  reached  in  his 
pocket  and  brought  forth  a  gun-metal  cigarette 
case.  Extracting  one,  he  proffered  the  case  to 
Dudley,  who  disdainfully  refused. 

"You,  Mr.  Kearney?"  he  asked  of  the  big 
chief's  first  lieutenant,  and  was  again  declined. 
A  bishop  smoking  a  cigarette!  What  next? 
thought  Kearney.  However,  said  he  quite  af 
fably: 

"Thank  you,  no,  Bishop.  I  never  indulge  in 
cigarettes." 

"It  isn't  a  habit  I  encourage  or  recommend — 
but  once  in  a  while  I  do  use  them,"  said  the  bishop 
as  he  prepared  to  strike  a  match.  Just  then  the 
door  of  the  telegraph  room  opened  and  Mary 
Sherman  appeared. 


140  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Excuse  me,  please,"  said  she.  "Did  you  ring, 
Mr.  Dudley?" 

"I  did  not,"  replied  the  editor  gruffly,  rubbing 
his  wrist  and  eying  it  for  a  possible  swelling. 

The  bishop  made  note  of  the  beauty  of  the 
young  woman  and  wondered  in  sympathy  how 
she  could  work  for  a  man  of  Dudley's  stripe.  As 
she  passed  out  the  bishop  finished  lighting  his 
cigarette,  and  turning  to  the  glum-looking  edi 
tor,  said: 

"Now,  Mr.  Dudley,  I  am  going  to  talk  in 
language  you  can  understand.  Let's  get  down 
to  cases."  Dudley  started  as  if  to  interrupt,  but 
the  bishop  continued:  "Ah,  don't  start  again — 
please.  I  know  'getting  down  to  cases'  is  a 
gambler's  expression.  I  learned  that  in  the 
West.  We  are  all  gamblers;  you,  Mr.  Kearney 
— I,  all  of  us.  Startling  thing  to  say,  isn't  it, 
Mr.  Dudley,  that  I — a  bishop  of  the  living 
church — am  a  gambler?"  Pausing  for  a  brief 
moment  to  exhale  a  cloud  of  blue  smoke,  he  fur 
ther  remarked:  "Yes,  you  gamble  with  politics 
and  public  opinion — for  power.  You  gamble 
with  the  law  just  as  other  men  gamble  for  money. 
Sometimes  you  win — sometimes  you  lose,  but  you 
are  always  at  a  disadvantage,  because  your  op 
ponent  keeps  his  cards  concealed,  and  you  never 


MEETING  OF  THE  TITANS        141 

know  just  what  he  has  up  his  sleeve.  When 
your  hand  is  poor  and  your  opponent  timid,  you 
bluff.  About  right — am  I  not,  Mr.  Dudley?" 

Dudley  was  thinking  hard  while  the  bishop  was 
speaking.  He  was  a  clever  fighter  and  believed 
that  sooner  or  later  the  bishop  would  uncover  his 
plan  and  exhibit  a  weak  spot.  Then  he  would 
strike — until  then  he  would  spar  for  time,  so  he 
simply  blurted  out: 

"Well,  you  seem  to  be  a  confessed  gambler, 
vou  should  know.  But  what  of  it?" 

Uf 

"Bear  with  me  a  moment,  please,"  replied  the 
bishop,  in  calm,  even  tones.  "When  I  gamble  I 
am  pitted  against  sin  and  corruption — private 
and  public.  Two  insidious  snakes  in  the  grass, 
always  striving  to  debase  the  manhood  and 
womanhood  of  our  cities.  I  find  lots  of  it  right 
here  in  Presidio.  But  the  stakes,  Mr.  Dudley, 
when  I  gamble" — the  bishop  was  leaning  towards 
the  editor,  gazing  straight  into  his  eyes — "the 
stakes  are  human  lives — human  hearts — human 
souls! — and  I  always  win.  Always  because  I 
hold  two  trump  cards,  Almighty  God  and  my 
trusty  right.  My  opponents  have  as  their  trump 
the  devil  and  his  cohorts — and  God  is  to  the 
devil  what  a  royal  flush  is  to  a  pair  of  deuces." 

No  opening  yet  for  the  editor,  so  he  contented 


142  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

himself  by  simply  growling:  "You  seem  devilish 
familiar  with  poker  terms.  What  has  that  to  do 
with  forcing  your  way  into  my  office,  where  you 
remain,  unwelcome?" 

Again  the  faint  smile  came  upon  the  bishop's 
lips  as  he  drew  his  chair  closer  until  his  arm 
rested  on  the  editor's  desk. 

"Yes — I  am  familiar  with  gambling,"  said  he. 
"As  I  observed  before,  I've  seen  plenty  of  it  in 
the  mining  camps,  and  I  am  thoroughly  familiar 
with  men.  All  kinds  and  conditions  of  them— 
even  your  kind,  Mr.  Dudley.  You're  quite  a 
common  product  in  our  big  cities." 

This  shot  of  the  bishop's  landed  true,  and  the 
editor  felt  its  sting.  He  jumped  to  his  feet  in  a 
fury. 

"Now,  see  here,  Anderson " 

"Steady,  Mr.  Dudley,"  interrupted  the  bishop. 
'  'Doctor'  or  'Bishop'  Anderson  to  you.    I  never 
allow  my  inferiors  to  become  familiar." 

"Wow!"  thought  Kearney,  who  was  enjoying 
every  moment  of  this  duel  of  wits,  "that's  a  home- 
run  for  the  bishop!" 

Dudley  well-nigh  lost  control  of  himself  and 

fairly  shouted:  "Well,  I'll  be  damned "  and 

then  he  sat  down  again. 


MEETING  OF  THE  TITANS        143 

Again  the  cool  and  collected  bishop  inter 
rupted: 

"I  am  glad  you  realize  that,  Mr.  Dudley,  be- 
caused  damned  you  will  be  eternally  if  you  don't 
change  your  ways.  Now  let's  cut  out  all  this 
banter.  Of  course  I  knew  all  about  your  opposi 
tion  to  my  election  and  consecration  as  bishop  of 
the  diocese.  But  that  never  did  worry  me  a  bit. 
On  the  contrary,  I  admire  a  good,  healthy,  hard 
working,  honest  enemy,  because  he  keeps  me  con 
stantly  keyed  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  endeavor  to 
do  that  which  is  right.  But  I  do  not  admire  your 
methods.  They  were  not  honest  ones." 

"You  mean  to  say  I  lied?"  asked  Dudley,  lean 
ing  forward,  eyes  a-glitter. 

"Well,"  answered  the  churchman,  speaking 
very  distinctly,  "put  it  that  way  if  you  wish. 
After  my  election  you  wrote,  or  caused  to  be 
written,  letters  not  only  to  Bishop  Turner,  but  to 
every  other  bishop,  stating  that  the  sentiment 
was  all  for  Dr.  Lamb.  It  wasn't.  I  know  Dr. 
Lamb,  and  he  is  a  good,  easy-going  sort,  in  a 
way;  but  he's  about  as  fit  to  build  up  this  dio 
cese  as  you  are  to — to — well,  lead  in  prayer, 
which  is  not  saying  very  much  in  his  behalf  at 
the  present  time.  You've  done  him  a  great  harm, 
a  grave  injustice  by  your  ill-advised  action." 


144  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Pausing  a  moment  to  let  his  words  sink  in,  "Now, 
when  I  came  to  Presidio  I  determined  to  call 
upon  you  and  see  if  I  could  not  enlist  your 
mighty  aid  on  the  side  of  right.  I  wanted  to  be 
friends  with  you,  not  only  because  of  your 
brilliant  ability  and  power,  but  because  of  the 
great  good  you  could  do  for  the  betterment  of 
Presidio.  Oh,  yes,  I  knew  of  your  substantial 
contributions  to  St.  James'  and  St.  Margaret's, 
and  I  also  know,  since  my  election,  you  have  with 
drawn  them  as  a  penalty  for  their  rectors  having 
voted  for  me." 

"Well,  that's  my  business,"  interjected  Dud 
ley,  as  Kearney  wondered  how  long  it  would  be 
before  the  editor  put  in  a  blow.  Just  now  the 
tide  was  all  in  favor  of  the  bishop. 

"Certainly,"  retorted  Dr.  Anderson,  "that's 
between  you  and  your  conscience,  if  you  have  one. 
But  the  church  will  live  and  grow  in  spite  of  you, 
or  any  other  man.  In  my  first  sermon  I  stated  I 
would  wear  no  man's  collar!  Yes,  and  I  meant 
you.  I  wanted  my  position  to  be  so  plain  every 
one  would  know  just  where  I  stood.  Since  com 
ing  here  I've  been  a  very  busy  man — with  the  new 
cathedral  and — other  work.  So  I  didn't  call 
upon  you  until  now.  But  yesterday  afternoon,  I 
was  at  the  ball  game.  You  were  there,  too,  Mr. 


MEETING  OF  THE  TITANS        145 

Dudley.  I  saw  you.  Wasn't  it  a  corker — didn't 
Carey  land  on  that  ball?" 

"Cut  out  the  ball  talk,"  shot  back  the  chief. 
"I've  got  a  sporting  editor." 

"And  a  good  one,  too.  I  enjoy  reading  his 
stuff.  But  you  can't  cut  out  baseball.  It's  too 
big  a  game,  and  I  like  it — so  do  you — so  does 
every  other  American  if  he  likes  clean  sport. 
Well,  that  game  made  me  feel  pretty  good,  and 
I  determined  to  make  my  long  deferred  call. 
Something  prevented  it  yesterday  evening  and 
last  night  I  had  a  meeting — I  surmise  that  you 
know  that.  Now  I  realize  just  how  you  feel  to 
wards  me — your  paper  shows  that,  but  isn't  there 
some  middle  ground  upon  which  we  can  meet? 
Can't  we  get  together?  Come,  Mr.  Dudley." 
The  bishop  arose,  and  held  out  his  hand.  Many 
moments  elapsed  before  another  word  was  ut 
tered  in  the  editor's  sanctum. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED 

"Bio  CHIEF"  DUDLEY  gazed  at  the  extended 
hand  of  the  giant  churchman  standing  in  front 
of  him.  Suddenly  a  feeling  of  joy  crept  into  his 
heart.  This  bishop  was  suing  for  peace!  Why 
hadn't  he  thought  of  it  before !  Of  course,  Bishop 
Anderson  had  raised  a  goodly  sum  to  start  the 
rebuilding  of  St.  Clement's,  but  he  was  going  to 
need  more  money,  and,  of  course,  he  must  know 
his  (Dudley's)  wealth.  Most  likely  he  went  into 
this  franchise  fight  just  to  stir  up  a  big  noise;  to 
show  him  he  could  do  things ;  then  he  would  come 
along  some  time  and  fix  matters  up — withdraw 
from  the  fight,  which  would  lag  without  a  leader. 
And  then — after  it  was  all  over — Bishop  Ander 
son  would  strike  him  for  a  big  contribution 

"Fine,  fine!"  thought  he;  "and  I'll  be  liberal- 
it's  a  very  cleverly  thought  out  scheme.    What  a 

politician  the  bishop  would  have  made !" 

146 


A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED  147 

All  this,  thought  Dudley,  as  he  gently  rubbed 
his  hands.  Inwardly  he  cursed  himself  for  not 
seeing  through  the  scheme  before.  Well,  he 
•would  be  friends  with  the  bishop,  but  like  the 
angler  with  the  fish,  he'd  play  with  him,  before 
getting  out  his  landing  net — which,  in  this  case, 
was  a  check  book.  But  the  surrender  must  be 
complete  before  anything  else  would  be  done.  It 
wouldn't  do  to  allow  the  bishop  to  get  off  too 
easily.  He  must  be  taught  his  place  and  stay 
there. 

In  Dudley's  mind  the  bishop's  game  was  a 
hold-up,  pure  and  simple.  All  his  life  he  had 
been  dealing  with  "artistic"  hold-up  men,  but 
this  bishop  was  the  king  of  them  all.  In 
his  case  Dudley  was  perfectly  willing  to  be 
held  up,  because  the  granting  of,  a  fifty- 
year  franchise  to  his  new  company  would 
mean  the  addition  of  more  millions  to  his 
already  swollen  fortune.  He  not  only  would  give 
a  big  sum  toward  completing  St.  Clement's,  but 
he'd  later  give  it  a  substantial  endowment  as  well. 
He'd  tie  the  bishop  to  the  tail  of  his  chariot  with 
strands  of  gold — no  man  would  try  to  break  that 
kind  of  a  halter.  After  holding  out  his  hand  for 
an  awkward  period,  the  bishop's  face  became 
stern  and  set.  Perhaps  he  was  gifted  with  sec- 


148  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

ond  sight  and  divined  what  was  going  on  in  the 
editor's  mind.  Kearney  did,  but  it  wasn't  divina 
tion  on  his  part.  It  was  a  mental  cinch.  He  had 
seen  Dudley  at  work  before  and  knew  his  every 
move.  But  he  didn't  share  the  chief's  opinion  of 
the  bishop.  That  gentleman  didn't  have  the 
right  look  for  the  artistic  grafter  Dudley  took 
him  to  be;  therefore,  he  waited — watching  every 
move. 

"Bishop  Anderson,"  said  Dudley  at  last,  lean 
ing  over  the  desk,  "there  is  one  way  we  can  be 
friends,  and  only  one." 

"And  that  is?"  quietly  asked  the  bishop. 

"Drop  this  franchise  fight.  You  are  a  church 
man,"  Dudley's  voice  was  almost  soft,  as  he  gave 
utterance  to  his  thought.  He  was  angling — ho 
ping  that  the  fish  would  bite. 

But  the  fish  didn't  bite.  On  the  contrary,  the 
bishop  resumed  his  seat,  and,  leaning  back, 
crossed  one  leg  over  the  other.  He  smiled,  and 
his  smile  was  not  particularly  pleasant. 

"That's  funny.  That's  what  I  was  about  to 
propose  to  you — to  drop  the  franchise  fight — be 
cause  you're  in  dead  wrong"  Uncrossing  his 
legs,  he  continued:  "It's  true,  I  am  a  churchman 
— but  none  the  less — a  man.  You  ask  what  is  im 
possible,  for  two  reasons:  first — because  I  know 


A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED  149 

I'm  right;  and  second — because  I  would  be  false 
to  my  duty  both  as  preacher  and  citizen,  did  I 
not  keep  up  this  fight.  It's  you  who  are  wrong, 
Mr.  Dudley.  You  are  fighting  for  personal  ag 
grandizement,  and  you  don't  need  it.  I  am  fight 
ing  to  conserve  the  interests  of  the  community  as 
a  whole — for  the  savings  of  widows  and  orphans. 
You  know  that  thousands  of  people  in  this  city 
have  invested  their  money  in  American  stock; 
they  did  this  because  they  believed  in  the  future 
of  Presidio — and  their  faith  has  been  justified. 
But  now  the  franchise  is  about  to  run  out  and  a 
failure  to  renew  it  will  cause  the  American  to 
lose  its  most  valuable  asset,  and  these  stockhold 
ers  will  lose  everything.  You  bondholders — yes, 
I  know  you  have  over  a  million  in  them — men  of 
your  calibre,  only  buy  securities  with  the  mini 
mum  of  risk — will  take  the  property  and  turn  it 
over  to  the  new  company — your  company,  Mr. 
Dudley — oh,  yes,  I  know  you  are  behind  it  all; 
you  are  the  new  company.  Come,  man,  where  is 
your  spirit  of  fair  play?" 

Dudley  was  dumbfounded  at  this  attack — it 
was  absolutely  unexpected.  This  bishop  was  sin 
cere — didn't  want  money — wanted  to  fight! 
Well,  he'd  give  it  to  him ! 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  fair  play!"  the  editor 


150  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

cried.     ''Every  man  must  look  out  for  himself. 
That's  what  I  am  doing." 

The  bishop's  lips  curved  with  a  faint  suspicion 
of  scorn,  as  he  rasped  back : 

"So  that's  your  motto,  is  it?  Every  man  for 
himself,  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost!" 
Then,  as  his  eyes  glanced  around  the  room,  he 
continued :  "I  take  it  you  are  an  admirer  of  fight 
ing  men,  because  here  in  your  office  I  see  fine 
statues  of  Hannibal,  Caesar — and  here  is  Napo 
leon.  Perhaps  you  fancy  you  are  a  reincarnation 
of  them — and  maybe  you  are!  They  were  all 
fighters  and  good  ones.  They  won  many  hard- 
fought  victories.  But,  Mr.  Dudley,  Hannibal  had 
his  Scipio — Caesar  his  Brutus,  and  Napoleon  his 
Wellington  and  Blucher.  However,  in  such 
cases,  the  defeat  of  these  great  fighting  men  was 
not  caused  by  man,  but  by  Almighty  God." 
Pointing  a  warning  finger  at  the  irate  editor  the 
bishop  concluded:  "And  you,  too,  Mr.  Dudley — 
you,  too,  will  some  day  be  defeated." 

Seeing  that  his  estimate  of  the  man  was  wrong, 
the  "Big  Chief"  sought  at  once  a  way  to  end  this 
interview.  They  were  not  getting  anywhere. 

"Aw,  cut  out  this  Patrick  Henry  stuff.  That 
doesn't  go  these  days,  and  you're  making  a  big 
mistake,  Bishop  Anderson,  because  I  have  you 


A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED  151 

pulverized  already — you  can't  budge  an  inch 
without  my  permission.  Get  onto  yourself." 

The  bishop  was  not  in  the  least  astounded  by 
this  bluff.  His  face  was  serious,  and  his  voice  re 
mained  calm,  as  he  rejoined: 

"Perhaps  I  am  making  mistakes — we  all  do, 
Mr.  Dudley.  The  one  Man  who  never  made  a 
mistake  in  this  world  was  crucified.  And,  by  the 
memory  of  that  Man,  I  am  going  to  fight  you, 
and  I  am  going  to  win.  Now,  if  it  is  to  be  a  con 
tinued  fight,  let's  make  it  a  fair  one — if  you  can." 

"Never  mind  how  I  fight,  Bishop  Anderson!" 
exclaimed  Dudley,  rising;  (fl  am  going  to  fight 
you, — and  I'll  break  you.  I'll " 

The  bishop  arose,  and,  with  intense  earnest 
ness,  said: 

"Steady,  Dudley!  Just  consider  that  when 
you  fight  me  you  fight  a  church — you  fight  an 
army  of  God's  people,  and  neither  you  nor  any 
other  man  can  do  that." 

"God  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  this,"  said 
Dudley. 

"Hasn't  he?  Considering  you  from  your  own 
estimate  of  yourself  perhaps  you'll  concede  your 
defeat  to  God  later  on." 

"No,  sir — it's  you  that  I'm  fighting,"  shouted 


152  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

the  editor,  red  with  rage.  "God  has  nothing  to 
do  with  it.  More  likely  it's  the  devil." 

Right  here  the  bishop  came  very  near  to  los 
ing  his  temper.  He  had  done  everything  he  could 
to  make  this  man  see  the  error  of  his  position,  and 
all  efforts  had  been  in  vain.  Now  it  was  time  to 
drop  all  pretenses  and  take  up  the  gauge  of  bat 
tle  in  earnest.  Moving  a  pace  nearer  to  Dudley, 
so  that  he  confronted  him,  the  bishop  slammed 
forth: 

"All  right,  Mr.  Dudley— all  right!  We'll 
drop  the  church  and  have  it  out  man  to  man. 
Now,  you  listen  to  me :  lately  your  paper  has  been 
getting  personal  regarding  me  and  my  family. 
Nothing  wrong  so  far,  but  sneaking  insinuations 
— such  only  as  a  virile  pen,  backed  by  a  perverted 
mind,  could  concoct.  That  stops  now!  Do  you 
hear  me?  Stops  once  and  for  all,  or  I'll  settle 
with  you  personally,  as  a  man  would  whose  fam 
ily  and  honor  are  his  dearest  possessions." 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do?"  interrupted 
Dudley,  eyes  ablaze  with  anger — "intimidate  me! 
I  publish  a  newspaper  and  whatever  is  news  I 
print,  regardless  of  whom  it  may  hit." 

"No,  I'm  not  intimidating  you  in  the  least. 
I'm  just  warning  you — keep  off  the  grass  re 
garding  my  personal  affairs.  As  to  the  public 


A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED  153 

questions,  go  ahead,  use  your  money — use  your 
power — use  anything,  and  I'll  fight  you  with  your 
own  weapons.  I'll  get  your  record,  and  woe  be 
tide  you,  if  I  find  anything  in  it  to  your  discredit 
— and  I  doubt  not,  I  will.  I  came  here  for  peace 
— not  war ;  but  you  wanlt  war.  Well,  you  are  go 
ing  to  get  it,  and  you  are  going  to  get  it  good  and 
strong — you  poor,  miserable  Pharisee" 

His  effort  was  over.  After  gazing  for  a  brief 
moment  at  Dudley  he  turned,  picked  up  his  hat, 
and  started  for  the  door.  Kearney  had  moved  to 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  editor's  desk,  and,  as  he 
passed  him,  the  bishop  put  out  his  hand  and  smil 
ingly  said : 

"I  am  glad  to  have  met  you  again,  Mr.  Kear 
ney,  though  I  must  confess  I  do  not  like  the  com 
pany  you  keep.  I've  seen  you  at  service  several 
Sundays.  Come  out  next  Sunday  morning — at 
St.  James'.  I'm  going  to  preach  about  the  Phar 
isee." 

"Sure,  I'll  be  there,  Bishop,"  replied  the  Irish 
man,  heartily  returning  the  handclasp.  As  the 
bishop  approached  the  door,  Mary  Sherman  came 
in  with  a  paper  in  her  hand.  The  bishop  stopped 
in  front  of  her,  and  said  pleasantly : 

"When  you  came  in  a  few  moments  ago  I  no 
ticed  that  very  pretty  little  cross  you  are  wear- 


154  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

ing."  Extending  his  hand,  he  continued:  "Per 
mit  me,  I  am  Bishop  Anderson,  and  I  am  glad  to 
know  you." 

"Thank  you,  Bishop,"  she  replied  simply;  "I 
am  Miss  Sherman." 

"I  hope  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
you  again." 

The  young  woman  looked  the  bishop  squarely 
in  the  eyes,  with  a  peculiar  smile : 

"You  will,  Bishop,"  and  passed  on. 

The  bishop  gazed  at  the  girl,  as  she  passed  him, 
and  then  left  the  office. 

Dudley  was  still  standing  at  his  desk  as  if  in  a 
daze,  when  his  secretary  approached  him.  She 
laid  a  piece  of  pink  paper  before  him,  and  said: 

"This  message  just  came  from  Mr.  Hensen." 
Immediately  she  turned  and  left  the  room,  stop 
ping  just  outside  the  door. 

The  editor  picked  up  the  telegram  in  an  ab 
sent-minded  way.  He  was  thinking  of  the  lash 
ing  just  given  him  by  the  bishop ;  and  then,  as  he 
read,  his  big  frame  straightened  up,  his  eyes  glis 
tened,  and  his  teeth  showed  big  and  white  through 
parted,  thick  lips.  This  was  what  he  read : 

"Am  on  trail  of  Carew  woman.  Went  West 
— former  husband  and  man  here  in  New  York — 


A  PLEA  THAT  FAILED  155 

can  put  hands  on  them  any  day.     Captain  An 
derson  in  Chicago." 

Now  Dudley  smiled — really  grinned — with 
joy,  because  right  at  the  moment  he  most  needed 
ammunition  this  telegram  came  to  hand. 

"Good,"  he  cried,  handing  the  message  to 
Kearney, — "good!  Things  beginning  to  come 
our  way."  Kearney  read  and  nodded  his  head. 
Then  he  abruptly  asked: 

"Dudley,  what's  a  Pharisee?" 

"Well,  from  the  way  the  bishop  spoke  it's  what 
a  Republican  thinks  of  a  backslider."  Then, 
taking  up  the  telephone,  he  jerked  out:  "Give 
me  the  editorial  room  quick.  That  you,  Crowell? 
Don't  mention  Bishop  Anderson  personally  in 
any  further  issues  until  I  direct  otherwise.  I'm 
after  some  new  dope." 

That  was  all.  The  "new  dope"  would  be  the 
bishop's  brother,  and  the  Carew  woman. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CAPTAIN    JOHN    ANDERSON 

WHEN  Bishop  Anderson  left  The  Banner 
building,  he  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  curb 
watching  the  busy  scene  before  him.  Main  Street 
was  full  of  activity.  Clanging  trolley  cars  passed 
and  repassed.  Honking,  sputtering  automobiles 
wormed  their  way  in  and  out;  loaded  trucks 
crawled  along,  while  the  sidewalks  were  lined 
with  hosts  of  hustling  humanity,  bent  on  getting 
somewhere,  and  as  soon  as  possible. 

"Truly  a  wonderful  scene — all  these  people 
scurrying  along,"  thought  the  bishop.  What  a 
tremendous  power  for  good  there  must  be  in 
such  a  bustling  multitude  if  only  its  energies 
could  be  guided  in  the  right  direction.  The 
bishop  believed  such  a  thing  could  be  accom 
plished,  but  the  place  to  start  seemed  to  be  back 
there  in  the  office  he  had  just  left.  "It's  worth 
the  effort,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

156 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  ANDERSON       157 

It  was  noon  and  being  a  member  of  the  Uni 
versity  Club,  the  bishop  wended  his  way  there 
for  luncheon,  and  then  home.  He  had  tackled 
a  hard  problem  calling  for  equally  hard  thinking. 
He  knew  from  his  interview  with  Dudley  that 
henceforth  it  was  to  be  war  to  the  knife  between 
them.  Like  the  editor,  he  knew  either  one  or  the 
other  must  in  time  give  way,  and  the  bishop  was 
not  in  the  mood  to  acknowledge  himself  a  quitter. 
Early  Western  experiences  had  taught  him  to  hit 
hard  when  to  hit  was  necessary,  and  now  was  the 
time.  The  city  council  must  and  should  be  made 
to  turn  down  Dudley  and  his  gang.  It  was  to  be 
a  finish  fight  and  no  quarter  asked  or  given  on 
either  side. 

The  bishop  related  to  his  wife  all  details  of 
his  interview  with  Dudley.  It  was  his  habit  to 
confide  in  her,  and  what  he  had  to  say  filled  her 
heart  with  dismay.  Her  mind  travelled  back  to 
Hillsburg,  to  the  pretty,  vine-covered  rectory 
nestling  beside  a  beautiful  church.  There  all 
was  peace  and  harmony,  and  she  had  had  her 
husband  much  to  herself.  In  Presidio  it  was 
work,  work,  work — and  fight,  fight,  fight! 

Helen  Anderson,  however,  well  knew  that  the 
way  to  help  her  husband  was  not  to  oppose  him, 
lest  she  might  weaken  his  purpose. 


158  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Keep  it  up,  Henry!"  she  encouraged.  "I 
know  you  will  win."  And  that  she  really  believed, 
for  she  had  absolute  faith  in  the  stamina  of  her 
stalwart  preacher  husband. 

The  bishop  worked  that  afternoon  on  diocesan 
matters,  and  then  went  out  to  make  some  calls, 
saying  he  would  return  in  time  for  dinner  at 
seven.  At  six  o'clock  his  wife  was  in  the  large 
living  room,  arranging  some  flowers  and  put 
ting  things  in  order  for  the  evening,  when  she 
heard  a  step  on  the  porch,  and  there,  in  the  double 
doorway,  stood  Captain  John  Anderson,  the  bish 
op's  brother,  and  beside  him  Mrs.  Henriette 
Eleanore  Anderson,  mother  of  himself  and  the 
bishop.  A  broad  smile  overspread  Jack's  face, 
as  he  called  out: 

"Hello,  Helen!" 

"Bless  my  soul!"  cried  the  bishop's  wife,  as  she 
ran,  with  hands  outstretched  in  greeting.  She 
kissed  Mother  Anderson  tenderly,  and  shook  the 
captain's  hand.  "Where  on  earth  did  you  come 
from?" 

"From  back  home,  of  course,"  laughed  the  cap 
tain.  "I  had  some  business  out  this  way,  and  as  I 
hadn't  seen  the  'old  Doc'  since  he  became  a  bishop 
and  neither  had  mother,  I  packed  up  my  bag, 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  ANDERSON       159 

picked  up  mother,  and  here  we  are.  Glad  to  see 
us?" 

"Am  I  glad?  Indeed,  I  am  glad!  And 
Henry, — 'the  old  Doc,'  as  you  call  him, — will  be 
so  glad.  You  are  well,  I  hope,  Mother  Ander 
son?  Let  me  take  your  bonnet  and  wrap." 

"Well!  Don't  I  look  it?"  cried  the  little  old 
lady  joyously,  as  she  handed  her  daughter  the 
old-fashioned  bonnet  and  shawl.  Then,  looking 
at  Jack  with  fond  eyes,  she  said:  "I  wish  this  boy 
would  stop  calling  his  brother  'Doc.'  It's  irreve 
rent — he's  a  bishop,  now." 

"Sure,  he's  a  bishop,"  replied  Captain  Jack, 
with  a  semblance  of  seriousness,  "but  he's  still  my 
brother.  Do  you  know,  every  time  I  see  him  in 
his  robes  and  hear  him  say,  'The  Lord  is  in  His 
holy  temple,'  I  feel  like  laughing  out  loud,  be 
cause  I  think  if  the  good  Lord  knew  as  much 
about  him  as  I  do,  well — he 

"Jack  Anderson!"  exclaimed  Helen,  half  chid- 
ingly.  Then  "Little  Mother"  came  towards  him 
and  playfully  said:  "Now,  sir,  you  stop  that  rail 
lery  this  instant,  or  I'll  be  tempted  to  take  you 
over  my  knee — just  as  I  used  to  do." 

"Nonsense,  Mother,"  cried  Jack  merrily, 
"you're  not  big  enough  now." 

"Oh,  yes  I  am,  dear, — if  I  tried." 


160  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Mother  Anderson  was  small  and  well  preserved 
for  a  woman  of  seventy-six.  Her  hair  was  silvery 
white  and  dressed  in  a  becoming,  wavy  fashion. 
Her  eyes  were  still  bright,  and  she  was  much 
more  active  than  many  women  years  her  junior. 
She  was  of  the  self-reliant  type,  independent  in 
spirit,  and  now  lived  in  contentment,  proud,  in 
deed,  of  her  "two  boys,"  as  she  termed  the  cap 
tain  and  the  bishop. 

The  captain,  her  second  son,  stood  five  feet  ten, 
and  weighed  the  correct  hundred  and  eighty 
pounds.  He  carried  himself  erect,  presenting  a 
decided  military  bearing.  His  hair  was  a  reddish 
brown,  sprinkled  with  a  very  few  gray  threads, 
and  his  eyes — green,  gray  or  blue,  depending 
upon  his  moods.  Jack  Anderson  had  never  ex 
actly  been  a  stray  sheep,  but  when  he  was  a  boy 
of  twelve  and  had  learned  telegraphy,  the  "travel 
bug"  got  into  his  blood  and  he  started  out  to  see 
the  world.  Sometimes,  when  in  funds,  he  saw  it 
from  a  plate-glass  Pullman  window;  and,  again, 
when  "broke,"  from  the  side  door  of  a  box  car. 
Such  capers  had  caused  his  parents  many  un 
pleasant  hours,  their  ever-present  fear  being  that 
"something  was  sure  to  happen — some  day." 
One  day  they  would  hear  of  him  as  being  in  the 
far  West — next  week  in  New  York.  Once  he 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  ANDERSON       161 

turned  up  in  Panama  as  spike-carrier  on  the 
Isthmian  Railroad.  At  twenty-two,  he  enlisted 
in  the  United  States  Marine  Corps — saw  service 
on  the  Atlantic  Coast,  and  was  finally  ordered  to 
the  Boston  Navy  Yard.  When  Mother  Ander 
son  heard  her  boy  was  in  the  Navy  as  a  marine, 
she  was  sorely  oppressed.  But  her  husband, 
Major  Anderson,  being  a  veteran  of  the  Civil 
War,  was  reconciled.  "Don't  you  worry,  my 
dear,"  said  he;  "Jack's  in  the  right  place  at  last. 
We'll  know  where  he  is  for  the  next  five  years 
anyway,  and  that  will  be  a  consolation  hitherto 
denied  us." 

But  Jack  did  not  stay  in  the  navy  five  years — 
nor  one  year.  Seven  months  after  he  enlisted,  he 
became  disgusted  with  that  branch  of  the  service, 
wrote  to  United  States  Senator  John  James  In- 
graham,  who  represented  his  home  state,  and 
asked  for  a  discharge.  The  fact  that  Jack  An 
derson's  father  was  Department  Commander  of 
the  G.  A.  R.,  and  the  old  soldiers'  vote  was  a  big 
element  in  his  state,  the  discharge  was  easily 
forthcoming.  The  next  legislature  would  either 
re-elect  Senator  Ingraham,  or  elect  some  one  to 
succeed  him,  and  in  doing  Major  Anderson  a 
favor  he  would  be  helping  his  own  cause  along. 
Thus  figured  the  senator,  but  had  he  really  known 


1 62  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

the  facts,  Private  Anderson  would  have  stayed 
out  his  full  five  years  in  the  navy.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  the  young  man  came  home  to  a  rejoicing 
mother,  and  a  doubting  father.  Six  months  af 
terwards,  he  enlisted  in  the  army  at  Fort  Hays 
— a  western  Kansas  post — and  there  he  stuck. 
He  had  sown  a  goodly  crop  of  wild  oats  and  he 
was  ready  to  quit.  Coming  of  a  long  line  of  mili 
tary  ancestors  the  service  appealed  to  him,  and 
at  once  he  became  a  good  soldier.  Two  years  and 
four  months  after  the  enlistment,  he  doffed  the 
chevrons  of  a  corporal  and  donned  the  straps  of 
a  second  lieutenant,  now  becoming  an  officer  and 
a  gentleman.  Then  it  was  that  the  mother  re 
joiced  and  the  father  became  proud;  their  boy 
had  come  into  his  own  at  last.  Indeed,  it  would 
seem  that  pride  in  him  was  quite  justified,  when, 
in  due  course,  their  youngest  boy  was  promoted 
to  a  captaincy. 

By  this  time  Jack  Anderson  should  have  ac 
quired  a  reasonable  amount  of  common  sense, 
but  alas!  two  months  after  he  was  commis 
sioned,  he  eloped  with  Veronica  White,  a 
school  girl  sweetheart.  There  is  no  gainsaying 
the  fact  that  Veronica  was  a  sweet,  beautiful  girl, 
but  the  pair  were  totally  unsuited  to  each  other. 
There  was  a  year  of  seeming  happiness,  one  of 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  ANDERSON       163 

uneasiness,  one  of  doubt,  one  of  musing — and 
then  came  the  inevitable  divorce.  Veronica  got 
the  decree  on  the  ground  of  incompatibility — 
Jack  not  defending  the  case. 

During  Captain  Anderson's  early  army  career 
he  developed  an  abnormal  sense  of  deduction 
and  investigation,  and  this  led  to  his  detail 
in  the  Bureau  of  Information — the  secret  service 
of  the  army.  At  thirty-two  he  was  in  charge  of 
this  important  branch,  and  rendered  splendid 
service.  His  work  took  him  all  over  the  world, 
and  gave  him  a  broad  insight  into  men  and  af 
fairs. 

During  the  Spanish- American  War,  the  cap 
tain  became  the  President's  confidential  man  with 
the  army  in  the  field.  At  Santiago  he  rendered 
most  conspicuous  service,  for  which  he  received 
the  coveted  Congressional  Medal  of  Honor.  At 
the  close  of  that  war  he  held  an  enviable  position 
in  the  army  and  was  one  of  its  most  distinguished 
young  officers. 

The  trend  of  our  lives  is  sometimes  changed  in 
a  most  sudden  and  startling  manner.  After  the 
Spanish- American  War,  Jack  Anderson  had  re 
joined  his  regiment,  which  was  fitting  out  for 
Philippine  service,  when  he  received  a  telegram 
from  his  clerical  brother,  saying  their  father,  Ma- 


164  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

jor  Anderson,  was  seriously  ill — "Come  at  once!" 
An  hour  later  came  another  message  telling  of 
the  major's  death. 

While  Major  Anderson  had  always  earned  a 
a  handsome  salary,  he  had  spent  every  cent  as  he 
went  along,  so  when  they  laid  their  gallant  father 
away  in  beautiful  Woody  Glen  Cemetery  it  was 
found  there  was  nothing  left  to  "Little  Mother," 
save  her  two  boys,  and  an  invalid  daughter.  Ex 
penses  were  heavy ;  debts  had  to  be  paid,  and  two 
helpless  women — mother  and  daughter — must  be 
cared  for.  The  older  brother  had  not  at  this  time 
achieved  fame  and  competence  as  an  author — 
his  clerical  pay  was  none  too  big — and,  besides, 
he  had  a  large  and  growing  family.  So  it  came 
about  that  the  burden  fell  upon  the  army  son, 
and  his  pay  would  not  meet  it.  The  army  being 
long  on  glory  and  work,  but  a  trifle  shy  on  com 
pensation,  Jack  Anderson  well  knew  that  sooner 
or  later  he  would  have  to  resign  the  service,  in 
order  to  make  more  money. 

Three  months  after  Major  Anderson's  death, 
the  little  invalid  daughter  joined  him  on  the  other 
side,  and  immediately  afterward  Captain  Ander 
son  resigned  the  service.  It  was  a  hard  blow  to 
the  army  man,  because  he  had  loved  the  service 
better  than  he  did  his  life.  He  settled  in  Chicago ; 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  ANDERSON       165 

became  a  confidential  man  for  banks  and  big  cor 
porations  and  made  a  very  handsome  income. 
The  little  mother  came  to  live  with  him,  and  he 
was  a  great  comfort  to  her  in  her  hour  of  great 
sorrow.  Her  son's  first  matrimonial  experience 
had  somewhat  embittered  him  toward  society,  and 
he  had  never  married  again,  though  deep  down  in 
his  heart  he  cherished  the  hope  that  some  day  he 
would  meet  the  woman  who  would  make  him 
happy.  Like  all  army  men  he  was  a  fatalist— 
but  that  did  not  prevent  him  from  keeping  his 
eyes  open  to  see  that  one  woman  when  she  ap 
peared.  His  mother,  as  he  said,  was  his  pal,  and 
that  little  lady  more  than  once  said  to  him : 

"Jackie,  boy,  if  I  could  see  you  happily  mar 
ried,  I  would  be  content  to  go  on  to  your  father 
and  my  other  babies." 

"I  may  marry  again  some  day,  Mother  dear," 
said  he,  "but  you  and  I  are  both  young  yet.  Let's 
take  our  time." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BROTHERS   PLAN   NEW   BATTLES 

JACK  was  the  first  to  see  the  bishop  as  he  en 
tered  the  comfortable  living  room,  and,  with  mock 
solemnity,  he  bowed  low  and  said: 

"His  reverence,  the  Bishop  of  Presidio." 

"Why,  bless  my  soul,  Mother!"  exclaimed  the 
bishop  in  joyous  tones.  "And  you,  Jack! 
Where  did  you  drop  from — heaven?" 

He  tenderly  kissed  his  mother,  and  shook 
hands  with  Jack,  who  replied : 

"No,  not  heaven,  Doc;  but  the  next  place  to  it 
—Chicago." 

The  little  mother  was  beside  herself  with  joy. 
She  was  with  "her  boys." 

"What  brought  you  here?"  asked  the  bishop. 

"Business — and  the  South  West  Limited,"  re 
plied  his  brother. 

"What  business?" 

166 


BROTHERS  PLAN  NEW  BATTLES    167 

"Oh,  personal — and  otherwise." 

"Personal?" 

"Sure,"  laughed  Jack,  "and  the  personal  part 
you  and  I  will  talk  over  later.  Then,  you  know, 
mother  has  never  seen  you  as  a  bishop,  and  she 
thinks  that  as  a  preacher  you  have  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  and  Philip  Brooks  beaten  a  mile.  Had 
an  awful  time  persuading  her  to  come,  though, 
Doc.  She  was  at  my  office  two  hours  before  train 
time,  for  fear  we'd  get  left." 

"What  a  torment  you  are,  Jack,"  interjected 
Helen. 

Mother  Anderson  spoke  up  and  said:  "I've 
tried  to  break  him  of  it  since  I've  been  living  with 
him,  but  it's  a  hopeless  case.  He  was  just  as 
anxious  to  come  as  I  was — more  so,  perhaps." 

Jack  looked  happily  at  his  blessed  mother,  and, 
thinking  of  her  advancing  years,  for  a  half -mo 
ment  his  eyes  were  grave.  Then  they  danced 
again  as  he  said: 

"Nonsense,  Mother.  Now,  didn't  you  say  you 
wanted  to  see  your  four  hundred  pounds  of  sons 
together?  Didn't  you?  Well,  here  we  are." 
And,  standing  beside  his  clerical  brother,  Jack 
struck  an  attitude,  while  Mother  Anderson 
looked  upon  the  two  with  beaming  eyes. 

"Well,"  said  the  bishop,  looking  down  upon 


i68     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

his  mother,  and  placing  a  hand  upon  his  brother's 
shoulder,  "we  are  going  to  keep  you  both  for  a 
long  visit.  Great  place,  Presidio.  Diocese  hasn't 
been  much  heretofore,  but  it's  going  to  be.  I 
raised  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  dol 
lars  for  the  church  during  my  first  ten  days'  stay 
here,  and  we're  building  a  new  cathedral.  You 
saw  it  as  you  came  in.  As  you  would  say,  Jack, 
'Some  class  to  that  work' — eh?" 

"How  much  did  you  say,  Doc?"  exclaimed  his 
brother,  with  astonishment — "A  fortune,  in  ten 
days!  Jiminy  crickets!  What  a  promoter  you 
would  have  made!  Give  up  the  ministry  and 
come  with  me  and  we'll  make  our  fortune!" 

The  bishop's  face  became  serious  as  he  started 
to  reply: 

"I  am  a  promoter,  Jack.    I  promote 

"Sure,"  interrupted  that  worthy,  waving  his 
hand,  "I  know  all  about  that.  But  just  save  that 
sermon  you  are  ready  to  fire  at  me  for  next  Sun 
day.  You  must  remember,  Doc,  I'm  a  Presby 
terian.  I  am  true  to  the  faith  of  my  fathers. 
You  are  the  backslider  in  this  family." 

"Will  nothing  ever  stop  you,  Jackie?"  cried 
the  mother. 

"Sure,  this  will,"  replied  the  captain,  as  he 
kissed  her  cheek.  He  was  simply  bubbling  over 


BROTHERS  PLAN  NEW  BATTLES    169 

with  good  nature.  Just  then  the  telephone  rang. 
Helen  moved  as  if  to  answer  it,  but  the  bishop 
said: 

"I'll  answer  it,  my  dear,"  taking  the  receiver 
from  the  hook.  "Hello!  this  is  Bishop  Anderson 
—who?  Oh,  Mr.  Flanagan — a  matter  of  import 
ance  you  say?  Certainly,  I'll  see  you — gladly. 
When?  Now — very  well,  in  a  few  minutes. 
Come  over." 

"That's  Bernard  Flanagan,  President  of  the 
American  Gas  Company,"  he  continued,  hanging 
up  the  receiver. 

Jack  laughed,  as  he  said:  "Probably  wants  you 
to  preach  a  sermon  to  his  employees.  They  gen 
erally  need  it — at  least  in  Chicago." 

"Well,  he'll  be  here  in  a  minute.  Helen,  dear, 
will  you  show  mother  and  Jack  their  rooms? 
You  needn't  dress  for  dinner." 

"Needn't  dress,  huh?"  retorted  Jack.  "What 
do  you  think  I've  brought  along  my  Tuxedo  for, 
Doc?  You  bet  I'll  dress,  and  you,  too,  although 
all  you  clerics  have  to  do  to  dress  is  to  turn  your 
collar  around." 

"All  right,  youngster,"  laughed  the  brother. 

"Cut  that  'youngster'  business,  Doc.  I'm  past 
forty,  you  know." 

"Well,  young  man,"  broke  in  Mother  Ander- 


170  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

son,  "your  actions  would  indicate  you  were  about 
fifteen.  Now  come  with  me!"  and,  seizing  him 
by  the  right  ear,  she  continued:  "lead  on,  Helen." 

Jack  loosened  his  mother's  hand,  and,  picking 
her  up  in  his  strong  arms,  said:  "I'll  follow  you, 
Helen."  The  little  mother  put  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  kissed  his  cheeks,  while  the  bishop 
and  his  wife  looked  on  with  delight.  As  they 
went  upstairs  the  bishop  yelled  after  him : 

"You're  nothing  but  a  forty-year-old  boy! 
You'll  never  grow  old." 

Answering  a  ring  at  the  door  the  bishop  ad 
mitted  Mr.  Flanagan. 

"I  happened  to  be  in  the  neighborhood,  so  I 
thought  I'd  run  in  and  see  you  for  a  moment,' 
said  the  president  of  the  American  Gas  Com 
pany. 

"And  I  am  glad  you  did.  Anything  particular 
since  I  last  saw  you?  Won't  you  smoke?" 

"Thank  you,  Bishop,  not  now.  I  think  the 
time  is  here  when  we  can  pretty  nearly  tell  where 
we  are  going  to  stand  in  the  present  council. 
There  are  twenty-four  councilmen,  you  know — 
two  from  each  ward." 

"Yes,  I  know  that." 

"Well,  from  all  reports  we  have  at  hand  we  are 
sure  of  eleven,  while  Dudley  has  twelve  sewed  up 


BROTHERS  PLAN  NEW  BATTLES    171 

tighter  than  a  drum.  That  leaves  one — Caton — 
and  Caton  is  a  slippery  one.  He's  on  the  fence. 
I  think  he's  waiting." 

"Waiting  for  what?" 

"For  one  side  or  the  other  to  come  across." 

"You  mean  money?" 

"That's  about  it,  Bishop." 

Bishop  Anderson  arose,  took  a  turn  across  the 
room  and  back,  and  then  said: 

"None  of  that,  Mr.  Flanagan.  Not  a  hint  of 
it.  This  is  an  appeal  to  their  honor  and  sense  of 
reason.  I  only  consented  to  go  into  this  fight 
with  the  understanding  everything  would  be  open 
and  above  board — and  it's  got  to  be !  You  know 
I've  always  told  you  I  wasn't  a  politician." 

"That's  the  saving  grace  of  the  whole  situation, 
Bishop,"  replied  Flanagan,  "that  you  are  not  a 
politician.  Because,  if  you  were,  Dudley  could 
beat  the  heads  off  of  all  of  us.  He's  used  to  fight 
ing  politicians,  but  you're  a  bishop  and  it's  a  new 
situation  for  him;  he's  completely  flabbergasted." 

"But  this  Caton,  Mr.  Flanagan,  who  and  what 
is  he?" 

"Oh,  he's  a  decent  chap  enough,  but  vacillat 
ing.  He's  one  of  the  many  men  who  go  into  poli 
tics  for  what  there  is  in  it." 

"Honest?" 


172  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Up  to  a  certain  point — yes.  Beyond  that — 
doubtful." 

"Well,  I'll  see  Mr.  Caton,  personally,  and  see 
what  can  be  done.  Maybe  I  can  win  him  over. 
Anyway,  I'll  try." 

"You'll  have  to  hunt  him  up,  Bishop,  because 
I  am  informed  he  has  gone  away  for  the  summer. 
But  suppose  we  should  win  Caton — that  will 
bring  up  a  peculiar  situation.  Each  side  will 
have  twelve  votes — a  tie." 

"Well,  I  am  not  very  well  versed  in  parlia 
mentary  law,  Mr.  Flanagan,  but  I  believe  a  tie 
is  no  vote — and,  as  the  question  will  be  on  the 
granting  of  the  franchise  to  the  new  company  as 
against  the  American,  the  motion  would  be  lost. 
The  whole  matter  \vould  then  go  over  until  after 
next  election  when  the  new  council  would  pass 
upon  it.  And  surely  we  can  win  that  election. 
We  have  several  months  yet  to  work  on  that  line, 
you  know." 

"That's  very  well  put,  Bishop,  and,  ordinarily, 
a  tie  vote  would  be  no  vote,  but  not  in  Presidio. 
You  see  when  our  city  forefathers  drew  up  our 
charter,  in  our  council  organization,  they  fol 
lowed  the  lines  laid  down  by  the  United  States 
Senate,  where  in  case  of  a  tie  the  presiding  officer 
has  the  deciding  vote." 


BROTHERS  PLAN  NEW  BATTLES    173 

"Well,  go  on." 

"In  our  council,  in  case  of  a  tie,  the  speaker 
votes,  and  his  vote  decides  it.  The  speaker  is  an 
elective  office." 

"And  the  speaker  is?" 

"Why,  Patrick  J.  Kearney,  Dudley's  right- 
hand  man." 

"Yes,  I  remember — Kearney." 

"And,  Bishop,  the  very  air  Kearney  breathes, 
the  ground  he  walks  on  belongs  to  Dudley,  who 
made  him.  Kearney  would  do  as  Dudley 
dictated  until  hell  froze  over — I  beg  your  par 
don,  Bishop." 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Flanagan,"  replied  the 
bishop  with  a  smile.  "Hell  is  a  very  expressive 
word.  I  refer  to  it  frequently  myself  in  my  ser 
mons." 

"But,  don't  you  see,  Bishop,  Kearney's  vote 
would  be  recorded  for  the  ordinance,  and  then- 
good-bye  American." 

"Still,  Kearney  is  a  good  Irish  name,  Mr. 
Flanagan ;  that  ought  to  be  easy  for  the  Catholic 
influence." 

"Catholic  nothing,  Bishop.  Kearney's  from 
the  North  of  Ireland — Belfast.  He's  a  Pres 
byterian,  if  anything,  but  a  church  wouldn't  have 


174  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

any  more  influence  on  Pat  Kearney  than  water 
on  a  duck.    Looks  pretty  bad." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Mr.  Flanagan.  I've 
met  Kearney  once  or  twice,  and  I  don't  regard 
him  as  hopeless  by  any  means." 

"You've  met  Kearney?"  said  Flanagan,  won- 
deringly;  "where, — when?" 

"Well,  this  morning,  for  instance,  in  The  Ban 
ner  office.  And  I  met  Dudley,  too." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  gas  president;  "well, 
I'll  be- 

"Steady,  Mr.  Flanagan — no,  you  won't!" 
smiled  the  bishop,  interrupting.  "I  made  a  so 
cial  call  upon  my  friends,  the  enemy — that's  all." 

"Called  on  Dudley,  socially!  You!  Jehosa- 
phat!  And  was  it  social,  Bishop?" 

"Just  about  as  social  as  two  cats  with  their  tails 
tied  together,  and  hanging  over  a  clothes-line. 
But  I  had  it  out  with  Dudley,  Kearney  was 
there,  and  I  am  in  a  better  position  to  fight  now 
than  ever.  As  I  said,  I  think  Kearney  might  be 
won." 

"Did  he  say  anything?" 

"Who?  Kearney?  No,  not  much.  Dudley 
and  I  did  most  of  the  talking.  But  it  wasn't  so 
much  what  Kearney  said — rather  what  he  didn't 
say.  It's  the  man — he's  Irish,  and,  as  you  know, 


BROTHERS  PLAN  NEW  BATTLES  175 

the  Irish  have  hearts;  this  battle  is  of  the 
heart — not  the  head."  Flanagan  was  almost  too 
amazed  to  speak,  but  he  did  reply : 

"Well,  what's  coming  off  next!  You  called  on 
Jim  Dudley!  It  beats  me!" 

"But  why  shouldn't  I  call  upon  him,  Mr.  Flan 
agan?  He's  a  public  man,  a  great  editor,  and 
proprietor  of  a  powerful  paper.  Do  you  know, 
I  admire  the  man  in  many  ways?  He's  a  fighter, 
you  can't  get  away  from  that." 

"But  an  unscrupulous  one,  Bishop." 

"True,  that's  because  you  citizens  of  Presidio 
always  have  allowed  him  to  rule  you  with  an  iron 
rod.  You  are  all  afraid  of  him,  and  a  man  afraid 
is  half  licked  before  a  blow  is  struck.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  him,  and  I  am  going  to  fight  on,  and 
I'm  going  to  beat  him!  And  then  win  him  over 
to  my  way  of  thinking." 

"If  you  do,  Bishop,"  said  Flanagan  incredu 
lously,  "I'm  ready  to  believe  the  age  of  miracles 
has  returned." 

"No,  not  miracles,  Mr.  Flanagan.  Just  rea 
son — that's  all." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AT  THE   BISHOP'S    HOME 

MOTHER  ANDERSON,  at  this  moment,  came  into 
the  room,  and  both  men  instantly  arose. 

"Do  I  interrupt,  Henry?" 

"Not  at  all,  Mother.  I  want  you  to  meet  my 
good  friend,  Mr.  Flanagan." 

"I  am,  indeed,  glad  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Ander 
son.  You  are  to  be  congratulated  on  being  the 
mother  of  such  a  son." 

Her  heart  glowed  with  pride,  as  she  heard  these 
words.  She  looked  at  the  big  bishop  with  loving 
eyes. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Flana 
gan.  He  is  a  good  boy.  But  I  have  another  son, 
my  baby.  I  want  you  to  know  him,"  and,  going 
to  the  stairway,  Mother  Anderson  called: 

"Jackie!    Oh,  Jackie  boy!" 

"Coming,  Mother  dear,"  answered  the  cap- 
176 


AT  THE  BISHOP'S  HOME         177 

tain,  coming  down  two  steps  at  a  time.  He  was 
immaculately  dressed  for  dinner.  "Well,  what 
now?"  he  inquired. 

The  proud  mother,  taking  Kim  by  the  hand, 
said: 

"Mr.  Flanagan,  this  is  my  baby,  Captain  John 
Anderson."  Then,  glancing  up  at  "her  baby's" 
hair,  and  noticing  it  was  most  carefully  parted 
and  brushed,  she  cried:  "There,  your  hair  is  too 
smooth.  Stand  still,  sir!"  and  she  proceeded  to 
rumple  it  up — "I  never  like  him  with  his  hair 
plastered  down  that  way — he  doesn't  look  nat 
ural.  It  brings  out  his  Irish  ancestry  to  muss  it 
up  a  little." 

Mr.  Flanagan  enjoyed  the  little  domestic 
scene,  and  laughingly  said:  "I  am  more  than  glad 
to  meet  you,  Captain  Anderson;  and  you, 
Madame,  are  doubly  blessed  with  two  such  boys. 
A  militant  bishop  and  a  captain!" 

The  bishop  interjected,  pointing  to  Jack. 
"This  is  mother's  favorite,  Mr.  Flanagan — you 
can  see  that." 

"Nonsense,  Henry,"  said  the  little  mother, 
"Jack  is  not  my  favorite — he's  my  baby.  You 
are  my  man-child." 

There  was  a  world  of  pathos  in  her  voice,  and 
sweetness  in  her  looks,  as  Mother  Anderson 


1 78  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

gazed  fondly  at  "her  boys."  She  was  proud  of 
them,  and  with  good  reason,  too. 

"Well,  I  see  this  is  a  family  party,"  remarked 
Mr.  Flanagan,  "and  I'll  be  going,  Bishop.  Of 
course,  you'll  be  staying  home  this  evening?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  bishop ;  "this  is  the  first  time 
we  have  been  together  in  some  time,  and  I  guess 
I'll  let  things  run  to-night.  We  should  be  glad 
to  have  you  dine  with  us." 

"Thank  you,  no,  Bishop ;  I  won't  intrude,"  and 
making  his  adieus  Mr.  Flanagan  left. 

The  bishop  stood  before  his  mother,  and  said: 
"Well,  well,  Mother,  how  nice  you  look." 

"You  like  my  costume,  Henry?" 

"Like  it?  Certainly  I  do.  You  look  like  a  girl 
of  thirty." 

"And  I  am  a  girl — of  seventy-six." 

Jack  came  forward  and  tenderly  said:  "Still, 
the  best  little  girl  in  all  the  world,  Mother  dear. 
Why,  Doc,  up  in  Chicago  mother  is  the  belle  of 
the  ball." 

"Yes,  young  man,  and  you  are  the  bellows. 
Now  stop  this  minute." 

"All  right,"  grinned  the  captain,  seating  him 
self  at  the  piano,  which  he  proceeded  to  play  with 
one  finger. 

Mother  Anderson  sat  in  the  bishop's  big  chair, 


AT  THE  BISHOP'S  HOME         179 

while  he  leaned  against  the  desk,  looking  down 
upon  her. 

"Henry,  do  you  like  your  work  out  here  as  well 
as  in  Hillsburg?" 

"Better,  in  some  ways,  Mother.  In  Hillsburg 
I  only  had  a  parish — one  church.  Here  I  have 
a  diocese — thirty  churches — and  Presidio  is  a 
coming  city.  My  work  has  started  well ;  the  new 
cathedral  is  being  rushed — will  be  finished  in  No 
vember.  And  each  day  I  see  this  great  church 
going  up,  I  realize  it  is  a  monument  to  God. 
Why,  Mother,  the  sound  of  the  masons  and  car 
penters  at  their  work  is  music  to  me.  It  is  the  an 
them  of  my  soul,  while  the  smell  of  burning  lime 
is  like  incense  to  my  nostrils.  It's  intensely  in 
spiring.  You  know  I  made  a  sacrifice  in  coming 
here — three  thousand  less  a  year  than  at  Hills 
burg,  so  I  haven't  gained  anything  financially  by 
making  the  change." 

Jack  stopped  playing,  turned,  and  laughingly 
broke  in: 

"That's  the  funny  thing  about  the  whole  busi 
ness,  Doc.  Generally  when  a  preacher  chap  re 
ceives  a  call  to  a  new  field,  the  first  question  he 
asks  is:  'What  salary  do  I  get?'  His  answer  to 
the  call  will  depend  on  the  amount.  If  it  is  an 
increase  he  prayerfully  considers  the  offer — and 


i8o    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

then — accepts.  But  if  it  is  less,  he  can't  hear  the 
call.  I  think  you  hold  the  record  in  that  line." 

"There  you  go  again,  Jackie!"  chided  the  little 
mother,  shaking  her  finger  at  him.  "Have  you 
no  respect  for  the  cloth?" 

"Not  when  worn  by  my  own  brother.  I  know 
him.  This  preaching  is  one,  great,  big  snap. 
Half -rates  on  railroads,  ten  per  cent  off  in  stores, 
no  doctor's  bills.  Just  get  up  once  or  twice  on 
Sundays  and  preach  to  the  faithful.  I'll  bet  a 
nickel,  Doc,  you  haven't  prepared  a  new  sermon 
since  you  came  here.  You  just  reach  down  in  a 
barrel  and  pull  out  an  old  one.  Pretty  classy 
job,  I  call  it!" 

"Now,  stop  it,  Jack 

"Don't  mind  him,  Mother.  I  don't,"  laughed 
the  bishop. 

"All  the  same  what  I  say  is  true.  You  preach 
ers  are  after  the  money,  same  as  we  all  are." 

"Well,  in  this  case  you  can  see  I  wasn't.  I  do 
believe  you're  mercenary,  Jack." 

"Nay,  Doc,  just  practical — that's  all." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AN   ARGUMENT   FOE  LOVE 

AFTER  the  ladies  had  retired  for  the  night, 
Jack  Anderson  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down 
the  porch,  after  which  he  came  in  and  slowly  ad 
vanced  towards  his  brother,  who  sat  with  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  silently  smoking.  Both 
men  were  thinking  deeply — each  on  subjects 
widely  apart.  Placing  his  hand  on  the  bishop's 
shoulder,  the  captain  finally  broke  the  long 
silence. 

"Pretty  well  fagged  out,  old  man,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes,  but  not  too  tired  to  talk  to  you,  boy. 
What  is  it?" 

Jack  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Pretty  hard  to  start,"  said  he  hoarsely. 

"The  way  to  begin  is  to  start.  Have  a  fresh  ci 
garette?" 

"Thanks,"  said  the  captain,  "I  will."    Plainly 

he  was  worried,  but  after  he  had  dropped  the 

181 


1 82  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

burnt  match,  he  continued:  "All  right,  Doc,  I  mil 
start.     I  am  in  love" 

The  bishop  looked  at  his  brother  with  a  kindly 
smile,  and  said: 

"What— again?" 

"But  this  time  it  is  very  serious,"  and  his  face 
showed  that  the  captain  meant  every  word  of  it. 
The  bishop  divined  the  situation. 

"Well,  sit  down  and  let's  talk  about  it.  Who 
is  she?" 

Jack  sat  down  opposite  his  brother,  speaking 
slowly,  as  if  weighing  every  word : 

"New  York  girl — Phyllis  is  her  first  name- 
never  mind  her  last — yet.  And  I  want  to  get 
married." 

The  younger  man  was  having  a  hard  time. 
The  bishop  realized  that  this  "youngster"  brother 
of  his  was  past  forty,  and  if  he  ever  was  going 
to  have  any  sense,  he  would  have  it  now. 

"Well,  why  don't  you?"  queried  the  bishop. 
"If  your  mind  is  fully  made  up,  and  the  girl  is 
willing " 

"Want  you  to  perform  the  ceremony.'* 

"That  certainly  isn't  an  impossibility — I  can, 
you  know." 

"Yes,  but  will  you?    That's  the  question." 

"Question?    Why,  Jack?" 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE        183 

"There's  an  obstacle." 

"What  obstacle?  That  you  were  divorced? 
But  your  former  wife  has  since  died.  So  that  re 
moves  any  obstacle  so  far  as  you  are  concerned." 

"I  know  that,"  replied  the  captain,  leaning 
over  the  desk,  "but  the  obstacle  is  on  the  other 
side." 

"How?"  asked  the  bishop,  looking  at  his 
brother  intently. 

"She  is  a  divorcee" 

"She?    Where?    When?" 

"New  York — six  years  ago." 

The  bishop's  voice  showed  his  relief,  as  he 
said: 

"Well,  even  that  can't  be  so  bad.  In  New 
York  State  divorce  is  granted  for  only  one  cause, 
and  the  innocent  party  is  privileged  to  re-marry. 
Even  my  church  recognizes  that.  Of  course,"  he 
added,  very  slowly,  "she  got  the  divorce?" 

Captain  Anderson  arose,  and,  walking  to  the 
open  fireplace,  dropped  his  cigarette  in  the  grate 
and  stood  looking  at  its  glowing  end  for  a  brief 
moment.  Then,  coming  back  with  a  drawn,  white 
face,  said : 

"That's  just  it,  old  man!  She  didn't  get  the 
divorce.  Her — husband  got  it.  The  presump 
tion  is  that  she  is  the  guilty  party." 


1 84    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Presumption!"  cried  the  bishop,  astounded. 

"Yes,  you  heard  me  say  it,"  replied  his  brother, 
"presumption.  The  law  ofttimes  proves  but  lit 
tle,  and  presumes  much.  Especially  in  divorce 
cases  in  New  York;  That's  just  what  it  did  in 
this  case." 

"But,  Jack  on  your  own  statement,  there  must 
have  been  a  trial  before  a  competent  court — the 
case  decided  against  her  and  she  stood  convicted 
of  infidelity  to  her  marriage  vows.  And  you  ask 
me  to  marry  you  to  such  a  woman?  Preposter 
ous!" 

The  captain's  choler  was  rising,  and  he  cried 
out: 

"No,  7  don't  ask  it — Phyllis  does.  Nay — she 
demands  it !  She  says  she  won't  marry  me  unless 
you  agree  to  perform  the  ceremony."  His  voice 
softened  a  little — he  placed  his  hand  on  the  bish 
op's  arm,  and  concluded:  "Maj^be  you  will,  after 
you  hear  the  story." 

The  bishop  moved  back  in  his  chair  and  said 
with  some  degree  of  heat: 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  it,  nor  will  I.  I  accept 
the  facts  as  stated  by  you.  You  must  be  crazy!" 

"No,  Doc,  I'm  not  crazy.  I  am  truly  and  hon 
orably  in  love  at  last — and  with  a  good  woman. 
Don't  miss  that!"  cried  the  captain,  noticing  the 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE        185 

scornful  look  on  his  brother's  face.  "A  good 
woman.  I've  always  wanted  a  home  and  chil 
dren,  but  I've  never  had  either.  I  lived  a  mis 
erable  existence  for  six  years,  as  you  know.  But 
that's  all  past  and  gone,  and  now  I  appeal  to  you 
to  help  me.  I'd  marry  Phyllis  to-morrow,  if  she 
would  let  me.  But  she's  a  churchwoman — she 
knows  of  you,  has  read  your  books,  heard  you 
preach  once  when  you  visited  New  York.  You 
took  as  your  text  that  day:  'Aye,  stone  the  wo 
man,  but  let  him  who  is  without  sin  among  you 
cast  the  first  stone/  It's  a  peach  of  a  sermon, 
Doc,  I  know,  because  I've  heard  you  preach  it 
several  times  myself.  That  inspired  her  to  take 
the  stand  she  did."  Once  more  he  pleaded,  "Bet 
ter  let  me  tell  you  her  story." 

"No,  Jack,  don't,  please!  It  wouldn't  make 
any  difference.  I  admire  her  for  the  stand  she 
has  taken — that  is  in  her  favor,  and  also  your  de 
fense — but  I  never  will  perform  the  cere 
mony." 

'  'Never'  is  a  long  time,  Doc." 

"Perhaps,  but  that  goes.  Outside  of  your  love 
for  this  woman,  have  you  stopped  to  consider? 
You  say  you  want  children — that's  natural.  But 
when  those  children  grow  up,  would  you  want 
some  one  to  point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  their 


186  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

mother?"  Here  the  bishop's  voice  softened  as  he 
continued,  "And  what  of  our  mother — that 
blessed  little  woman  sleeping  upstairs  now? 
What  of  her?  She  lives  with  you  now,  but  what 
then?" 

"Yes,  I've  thought  of  all  that.  Phyllis'  heart 
brims  over  with  mother  love,  and  her  innocence  is 
so  firmly  established  in  my  mind,  I  am  not  afraid. 
As  for  our  mother — well — she  would  still  live 
with  me.  Phyllis  is  willing." 

"Jack !"  cried  the  bishop,  rising.  "Do  you  real 
ize  just  what  you  are  saying?  Our  mother  to  live 
with  a  woman  without  a " 

"Don't  say  it,  Hank — don't  say  it!"  exclaimed 
Jack,  advancing  to  within  a  pace  or  two  of  his 
brother,  "you,  nor  no  other  man  can  attack  that 
woman !  I  won't  stand  it !  You  are  bigoted  and 
narrow-minded.  What  do  you  preachers  mean 
when  you  get  up  on  Sunday  and  proclaim  the 
Gospel  of  Christ?  What  do  you  mean  when  you 
say  there  is  not  a  sin  for  which  atonement  cannot 
be  made?  All  the  time  you  are  saying  it,  you 
must  have  your  fingers  crossed!" 

"Jack,  Jack !    What  are  you  saying?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  through  yet !  What  do  you  mean 
when  you  invite  all  those  that  are  pure  in  heart 
and  in  mind  to  come  up  to  your  communion  table? 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE        187 

There  is  no  apparent  reservation  in  your  invi 
tation — but  supposing  Phyllis  should  come,  and 
you  knew  what  I  had  just  told  you  now — what 
would  you  say  to  her?  Why,  you'd  refuse  her 
this  blessed  sacrament.  You'd  say,  'You're  an 
unclean  thing — you've  sinned  beyond  reparation' 
• — giving  the  lie  to  your  words  from  the  pulpit! 
Why  don't  you  be  consistent?" 

"I  am  consistent.  Your  knowledge  of  church 
affairs  is  very  limited." 

"Bah !  I  can  confound  you  in  a  hundred  places 
in  the  Bible  and  in  your  own  prayer  book!" 

"Now,  see  here,  Jack — I  am  not  going  to  enter 
into  a  religious  or  an  ethical  discussion  with  you. 
And  as  for  our  mother  living  with  you  after  such 
a  marriage — why,  that's  out  of  the  question.  / 
wouldn't  permit  it" 

"You!"  exclaimed  Jack. 

"Yes,  I." 

"Well,  perhaps  mother  might  have  something 
to  say  about  that." 

"Nonsense,  mother  has  good  sense." 

"That's  just  what  I  am  counting  on,  Doc — • 
mother's  good  sense,  and  her  great  big  heart." 

"Does  she  know  of  your  infatuation — your 
love?" 

"In  a  general  way,  yes ;  and  she  knows  you  and 


1 88  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

I  are  talking  it  over,  but  not  all  the  details. 
Those  I  shall  tell  her  later." 

"I  am  glad  she  is  asleep.  Now,  boy,  listen  to 
me,"  said  the  bishop,  placing  both  hands  on  his 
brother's  shoulders.  "I  am  older  than  you,  and 
since  our  father  died  I  have  been  the  head  of  the 
house.  You  always  were  a  headstrong  boy,  rush 
ing  in  where  angels  /  eared  to  tread.  Your  army 
career  was  a  most  creditable  one — brilliant,  in 
fact.  Your  work  in  the  secret  service  stamped 
you  as  a  man  of  genius.  Your  marriage  to  Ve 
ronica  White  was  a  colossal  mistake.  Neither 
was  suited  to  the  other.  But  you  were  married. 
Your  six  years  of  life  together,  as  you  say,  were 
miserable  ones.  Then  came  the  divorce.  You 
will  remember  I  fought  you  on  that,  and  for  a 
number  of  years  we  didn't  speak.  But  that's  all 
past  and  gone  and  things  are  peaceful.  Don't 
change  them." 

"Are  you  still  condemning  me  for  my  mis 
take?" 

"No,  Jack,  I'm  not  condemning  you — I  pity 
you.  But  I  don't  want  you  to  repeat  it — that's 
all." 

The  captain  was  angry.  His  clerical  brother 
was  treating  him  as  a  child.  Shaking  off  the 
bishop's  hand,  he  cried: 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE        189 

"I  don't  want  your  pity.  My  love  for  this 
woman  is  my  religion.  It  is  good  and  beautiful 
— it's  inspiring — it's  divine!  You  are  the  one  to 
be  pitied — you  with  your  narrow-minded  views. 
You — who  preach  beautiful  sermons  about  the 
spiritual  uplift  of  mankind;  you — who  fail  to 
realize  that  times  have  changed;  you  blame  wo 
men  for  their  cardinal  sins — but  what  of  the 
men?  How  many  of  your  congregation,  sitting 
there  smug  and  proper  as  words  of  wisdom  flow 
from  your  lips,  could  afford  to  have  the  glaring 
light  of  searching  publicity  turned  on  their 
past  lives?  But  if  the  men  did  confess  all 
their  rottenness  and  then  reformed,  you  and  your 
churches  would  call  them  brothers  and  sing  halle- 
lujahs,  because  they  were  saved.  But  women, 
poor  erring  women,  let  one  of  them  sin — let  even 
so  much  as  a  breath  come  against  them  and  in  one 
blast — name,  reputation  and  character  all  are 
gone." 

The  bishop  started  to  interrupt,  but  the  cap 
tain  refused  to  be  stopped. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  you'd  take  these  women  and 
put  them  in  some  benevolent  home  to  reform 
them — but  they  don't  want  to  go  there  because 
you  might  as  well  write  the  word  'Scarlet'  over 
the  portals  of  these  homes.  Failing  in  this,  you 


190  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

literally  send  them  out  in  the  streets — objects  of 
scorn  and  ridicule.  Why,  you  won't  even  hear 
Phyllis'  story.  You  won't  give  the  girl  the 
chance  you  would  give  a  burglar  caught  in  the 
act;  that  of  defense." 

Bishop  Anderson  looked  admiringly,  but  with 
pitying  eyes,  at  his  brother.  He  admired  the 
manhood  that  would  stick  up  for  a  girl  with  such 
force.  The  plea  was  eloquent. 

"Now,  see  here,  Jack,  it  is  not  for  me  to  judge 
the  woman.  The  courts  did  that.  She  had  her 
chance  for  defense  before  a  competent  court  of 
law,  and  failed.  Your  own  words  are  proof 
of  that.  And  as  for  your  love  for  her  being  your 
religion — that's  the  trouble  with  you  twentieth 
century  business  men.  Your  love  for  women  is 
personal — physical." 

"Your  statement  is  wrong,  Doc.  My  love  for 
her  is  personal — physical — as  you  term  it — in  a 
way.  I  do  love  Phyllis'  personality — her  body- 
it's  sweet  and  beautiful.  Every  man's  love  starts 
that  way — yours  did  for  Helen.  But  I  also  love 
her  heart — her  spirit — her  great,  white  soul — her 
character — her  desire  to  do  good — and  her  pur 
ity.  Get  that — her  purity.  If  I  had  only  the 
love  of  person,  I'd  be  a  beast;  if  only  the  love  of 
spirit  and  soul,  I'd  be  an  effeminate  thing,  which 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE        191 

long-haired  poets  and  crazy  women  call  a  soul- 
mate.  It's  the  combination  of  the  two  loves  which 
makes  it  perfect." 

Bishop  Anderson  slowly  arose,  walked  to  the 
mantel,  and,  taking  down  an  old  sabre,  turned 
to  his  brother  and  said : 

"Boy,  boy,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  say 
ing — Jack,  here  is  the  sword  our  father  carried 
during  the  great  Civil  War — from  Sumter  to 
Appomatox  he  carried  it  with  honor." 

Drawing  the  blade  from  its  sheath  and  holding 
it  towards  the  captain,  he  cried:  "Look  at  that  in 
scription,  'Never  draw  me  without  cause,  nor 
sheathe  me  with  dishonor.'  Would  you  dishonor 
it  now?  Would  you?" 

"That  sword,"  replied  Captain  Anderson,  "has 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  are  a  preacher.  You 
do  the  praying  for  this  family,  and  I'll  do  the 
fighting." 

"Steady,  Jack,  you  are  beside  yourself,  and 
there  is  no  reason  in  you.  We'll  talk  this  over 
again." 

"No!    We'll  finish  it  now!" 

"I'm  trying  hard  not  to  lose  my  temper." 

"I  wish  with  all  my  heart  you  would  lose  it! 
Forget  for  a  moment  you  are  a  preacher — be  a 
man!" 


IQ2  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

But  the  captain  was  not  through — he  had  one 
more  charge  to  fire. 

"Wait!  You  say  we  had  a  quarrel  over  my 
divorce.  True,  we  did.  You  railed  and  ranted 
against  it — condemned  me  up  one  side  and  down 
the  other  when  all  the  time  you  admitted  the  ut 
ter  impossibility  of  Veronica  and  me  living  to 
gether.  But  what  of  your  case?  Wherein  was 
the  difference?  If  I  was  a  fool  to  rush  in,  so,  too, 
were  you.  Just  after  you  graduated  from  col 
lege  you  broke  into  matrimony  by  marrying 
Cynthia  Perrin.  What  kind  of  a  life  did  you 
lead?  Any  different  from  mine?  No!  worse,  if 
anything.  There  were  petty  bickerings,  insane 
jealousies,  and  you  led  a  regular  cat-and-dog  ex 
istence.  Oh,  I  know  it,  and  so  do  you.  Then 
Cynthia  died.  Later  you  married  Helen  and 
now  you  are  happy.  The  only  difference  be 
tween  your  case  and  mine  is  your  divorce  was 
written  on  a  tombstone — while  mine  was  a  legal 
document.  The  means  were  different,  but  the 
end  the  same.  What  have  you  to  say  to  that?" 
The  bishop  did  not  forget  his  clerical  calling,  and, 
advancing  toward  his  irate  brother,  exclaimed : 

"Why,  you  idiot! — you're  crazy!" 

The  brother  never  flinched — but,  facing  the 
bishop,  raised  his  hand  and  said : 


it,  right  now,  Hank!—  —or  /'// 


Right  here 

a  slight,  blue-robed  and  lace-capped  little  white-haired 
woman  came  between  the  two  strong  men 


AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  LOVE        193 

"Stop  it,  right  now,  Hank!  or  I'll " 

Right  here  a  slight,  blue-robed  and  lace-cap 
ped,  white-haired  little  woman  came  between  the 
two  strong  men  and  gently  said : 

"Boys!" 

The  bishop  and  the  captain  recoiled  and  si 
multaneously  exclaiming: 

"Mother!" 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  MOTHER'S  WAY 

THE  bishop  was  first  to  recover. 

"You  heard?"  he  exclaimed,  dropping  back  a 
pace  or  two,  and  peering  into  his  mother's  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  heard.  I  knew  some  such  talk  was 
taking  place  between  you  boys,  so  I  couldn't 
sleep.  I  put  on  the  wrapper  and  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  and  listened.  No,  I  wasn't 
eavesdropping,  because  a  mother  has  a  right  to 
hear  her  boys.  Now,  come  here,  both  of  you." 

Slowly  these  two  strong  men  advanced  to 
wards  the  little  mother. 

"I'll  take  that  sword,  Henry." 

Mother  Anderson  seated  herself  on  the  settee, 
and  continued: 

"You  sit  there,  Henry,  on  my  right,  and  you, 
Jackie,  on  my  left." 

These  two  big  boys  of  hers  were  like  super 
heated  steam  boilers.  They  needed  quick  hand- 

194 


A  MOTHER'S  WAY  195 

ling,  or  an  explosion  would  occur.  There  she  sat 
— a  delicate,  frail,  beautiful  little  creature,  with 
a  son  on  either  side  of  her.  Tenderly  kissing  the 
old  sword,  she  laid  it  down  in  her  lap,  and,  taking 
each  boy  by  the  hand,  she  said : 

"Do  you  know,  boys,  I  can  well  remember  the 
day  your  father  went  away  to  the  war,  years  and 
years  ago.  I  gave  this  sword  to  him,  and 
buckled  it  around  his  waist.  He  looked  so  brave 
and  handsome  as  he  marched  at  the  head  of  his 
company,  and  I  was  proud  of  him — my  soldier 
laddie!  As  I  stood  there  with  aching  heart,  I 
held  a  baby  in  my  arms;  his  two  chubby  arms 
crept  round  my  neck  and  his  sweet  voice  cooed 

in  my  ears:   'Muver' Mother  Anderson's 

voice  was  very  tender  now,  as  she  continued: 
"For  four  years  your  father  was  away,  boys 
— righting;  while  I — like  thousands  of  other 
women — was  at  home — watching — waiting — 
praying.  And  all  of  my  comfort  in  those  trying 
days  was — that  baby."  She  paused  a  moment, 
and,  looking  fondly  at  the  bishop,  said:  "You 
were  that  baby,  Henry,  and,  oh,  how  glad  your 
father  was  when  he  came  back  from  the  war  and 
saw  how  sturdy  and  strong  you  had  grown !" 
Then,  turning  to  Jack,  she  continued : 
"A  few  years  after  the  war  you  came,  Jackie, 


196  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

boy.  You  were  fair  of  skin,  blue  of  eye,  and  had 
beautiful  golden  curls.  You  looked  like  your 
father — how  proud  he  was  when  I  presented  him 
with  his  namesake!"  A  gentle  pat  of  the  hand 
accompanied  this  pretty  little  speech. 

"You  know,  boys,"  the  mother  continued,  "six 
babies  came  to  us  and  our  hearts  were  glad,  be 
cause  there  was  room  for  all.  But,  one  by  one, 
four  of  them  have  gone  home — your  father,  too, 
was  taken  away.  That  left  me  all  alone — save 
for  you  two — big — boys;  still  my  babies." 

Under  the  influence  of  this  voice,  the  same  one 
that  had  sung  them  the  lullabies  of  babyhood,  the 
spirit  of  these  two  strong  men  softened.  They 
realized  Mother  was  talking  to  them.  They  were 
"blood  of  her  blood,  flesh  of  her  flesh,  and  bone 
of  her  bone."  All  else  was  forgotten.  Jack's 
voice  was  trembling  as  he  gently  said : 

"Sweet  little  Mother!" 

The  bishop  placed  his  arm  affectionately  over 
the  shoulder  of  the  little  woman,  who  continued, 
looking  first  at  one  and  then  the  other : 

"I've  tried  to  bring  you  up  right,  and  I've  suc 
ceeded.  The  pain  of  bearing  you  was  as  nothing 
compared  to  my  joy  in  realizing  you  both  are 
splendid  men."  Here  she  broke  into  a  silvery 
laugh,  and  said: 


A  MOTHER'S  WAY  197 

"Henry,  do  you  remember  the  time  I  cut  down 
a  pair  of  your  father's  trousers  for  you?  They 
were  blue  velvet  and  you  rebelled  against  wear 
ing  them.  Well,  you  went  out  and  deliberately 
rolled  in  the  mud.  You  bad  boy!" 

"I  certainly  do  remember  it,  Mother,"  laughed 
the  bishop,  "as  well  as  if  it  were  yesterday." 

"Yes,"  broke  in  Jack,  "I  remember  it,  too, 
Mother.  I  got  those  same  trousers  later."  Then, 
leaning  across  to  the  bishop,  the  brother  said: 
"Remember  Duffy's  pond,  Doc?  'the  old  swim 
ming  hole' — and  remember  the  night  you  and 
Billy  Durham  went  to  see  the  'Black  Crook,'  and 
I  saw  you  going  in  ?  I  had  you  then,  because  you 
were  afraid  I'd  tell  dad  and  mother." 

Get  two  strong  men  talking  over  boyhood's 
happy  days — especially  with  their  mother  sitting 
between  them — and  all  rancor  and  ill-feeling  will 
soon  be  forgotten.  The  bishop  was  smiling  as  he 
replied : 

"I  happily  do  remember  it  all,  Jack.  Great 
days,  those!" 

Again  the  mother  laughed  heartily,  as  she 
said: 

"And  Henry,  the  day  you  went  to  the  Naval 
Academy — do  you  remember? — I  presented  you 
with  an  umbrella — and — you — spurned — it!" 


198    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Well,  Mother,  who  ever  heard  of  a  naval  of 
ficer  with  an  umbrella?" 

"That's  so,  Henry,  but  I  didn't  realize  it  then, 
and  I  didn't  want  you  to  get  wet." 

Mother  Anderson  knew  the  time  had  come  to 
make  her  plea  for  peace. 

"No  mother,"  she  continued,  "ever  had  better 
sons,  and  I  am  proud  of  you.  You  have  made 
mistakes,  both  of  you,  but  I  pray  you,  don't 
blight  my  last  few  years;  they  will  be  but  few, 
because  nature  will  soon  play  out  and  I'll  join 
your  father  and  the  little  ones  on  the  other  side. 
Don't  let  these  last  years  be  embittered  by  a  quar 
rel  between  you  two.  Don't,  I  beg  of  you !" 

The  bishop  was  not  completely  at  ease  yet. 
He  remembered  the  drubbing  Jack  had  given 
him. 

"But,  Mother,  don't  you  see,"  he  cried,  "I  am 
worried  to  death  with  my  diocesan  troubles,  then 
Jack  comes  along  with  his  love  affairs." 

Jack  remained  silent,  but  his  mother  replied 
very  gently: 

"Maybe  Jack  has  more  in  his  case  than  you 
think." 

"Are  you  taking  his  part?" 

"No,  Henry,  I  am  not  taking  any  one's  part. 
[You  are  both  men,  and  will  have  to  fight  your 


A  MOTHER'S  WAY  199 

own  battles.  Do  you  remember  in  our  old  dining 
room  what  was  over  the  door  leading  into  the 
parlor — that  motto?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  older  boy,  "I  remember  it." 

"What  was  it?" 

"  'Let  brotherly  love  continue.' ' 

"That's  it.  Now,  let  it— both  of  you.  Drop 
any  rancorous  subject  now — my  boys."  There 
was  a  world  of  pathos  in  her  voice — a  plea. 

"I  am  perfectly  willing,  Mother.  But  I've 
wanted  Jack  to  help  me  in  this  outside  fight  I 
am  in.  I  was  about  to  write  him,  but  to-night  he 
came.  You  know,  Mother,  Jack  has  the  keenest 
deductive  sense  of  any  man  I  ever  knew.  He 
can  find  out  something  from  nothing  any  time, 
and  now  I  need  that  sense." 

"Whom  are  you  fighting?"  asked  Jack  quietly. 

"Dudley,"  laconically  replied  the  bishop. 

Jack  started,  arose  to  his  feet,  took  a  step  or 
two  and  turned.  "You  mean  James  Burchard 
Dudley,  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Presidio 
Banner?" 

"Yes,  do  you  know  him?" 

"Only  by  reputation."  A  peculiar  smile  over 
spread  Jack's  countenance.  He  was  thinking 
hard.  "So  you  are  fighting  him,  are  you?  And 
you  want  my  help."  Again  he  paused,  thought, 


200  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

f 

and  then  said:  "All  right,  I'll  give  you  my  help 
on  one  condition." 

The  mother  was  looking  intently  at  the  bishop, 
as  he  asked : 

"And  that  is?" 

"Well,  we'll  declare  a  truce  on  my  affairs  until 
your  fight  with  Dudley  is  over.  Then  you  give 
Phyllis  a  chance  to  tell  her  story." 

"That  is  perfectly  fair,  Henry!"  exclaimed  the 
mother. 

The  bishop  tried  to  fathom  just  what  was  in 
his  brother's  mind,  but  gave  it  up.  But  here 
was  the  help  he  most  needed — must  have.  And 
Jack's  request  was  not  unreasonable.  He  would 
hear  the  girl's  story.  He  wouldn't  be  commit 
ting  himself  in  any  way  in  doing  that. 

"All  right,"  said  he,  "I'll  do  it." 

"Good!"  cried  the  little  mother,  rising;  "shake 
hands  on  it — there,"  clasping  her  boys'  hands  in 
hers.  "Now  I  feel  better.  My  two  boys  are 
fighting  for  and  with,  not  against,  each  other, 
and  the  outcome  cannot  help  but  be  victorious.  I 
do  not  know  this  man,  Dudley,  nor  what  his  con 
tention  is — but  I  pity  him!"  Her  confidence  in 
her  boys  was  supreme. 

"What  is  the  fight  about?"  asked  Jack. 

"Too  long  a  story  now,  old  man.    I'll  tell  you 


A  MOTHER'S  WAY  201 

in  the  morning.  It's  late  and  I'm  going  to 
bed." 

The  little  mother  had  accomplished  her  mis 
sion.  Her  two  boys  were  friends.  So  she  gaily 
said: 

"Now  that  you  two  have  finished  cutting 
up  didoes,  I  am  going  to  get  my  sleep."  Going 
up  to  Jack  she  put  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and,  kissing  him,  said: 

"Good  night,  Jackie  boy — you  are  still  my 
baby." 

"Good  night,  little  Mother." 

"Coming,  Jack?"  asked  the  bishop,  as  he  and 
his  mother  moved  arm  in  arm  towards  the  stair 
way. 

"No,  not  yet,  Doc;  I'll  take  another  smoke  be 
fore  I  retire."  Lighting  a  cigarette,  he  seated 
himself  at  the  piano,  and  again,  with  one  finger, 
began  to  play  taps. 

"All  right,  Jack.  Turn  out  the  lights  and  lock 
up,  will  you?" 

"Sure  thing,  good  night." 

Perhaps  his  encounter  with  his  brother  had 
ended  in  a  drawn  battle.  But  somehow  or  other 
Jack  Anderson  felt  that  the  coign  of  vantage  was 
his  own.  He  had  played  taps  half  through  when 


202     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

he  turned  towards  the  stairway,  and  called  to  the 
bishop : 

"Oh,  Doc,  where  is  Twenty-ninth  and  Wind- 
grove  Avenue?" 

"Just  over  at  the  corner  of  the  park — a  block 
from  here.  Why?" 

"Oh,  nothing — just  wanted  to  know." 

Once  more  Jack  Anderson  smiled — then  stole 
softly  up  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BROTHERS    CONFIDE 

NEXT  morning  when  the  family  met  at  break 
fast  all  signs  of  the  conflict  of  the  night  before 
had  passed  away.  The  little  mother  was  serenely 
happy.  Helen  Anderson  was  graciousness  per 
sonified  ;  the  bishop  ready  for  a  hard  day's  work, 
and  Jack  anxious  to  get  busy. 

After  breakfast  the  brothers  retired  to  the  den, 
closed  and  locked  the  door,  and  then  the  bishop 
unburdened  himself  to  the  captain  on  the  fran 
chise  fight.  He  told  him  everything  from  the  day 
he  received  Bishop  Turner's  letter,  showing 
Dudley's  antipathy,  until  the  events  of  the  pre 
vious  day. 

Jack  listened  very  intently,  and,  when  the 
bishop  had  concluded,  said: 

"I  gather  Kearney  and  Caton  are  the  two  men 
you  have  to  win." 

203 


204    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Yes,  that's  about  it.  I  was  going  to  try  and 
see  Caton  to-day  and  have  an  interview  with  him, 
but  I  hear  he  can't  be  found." 

"From  what  you  have  told  me  of  the  man,  I 
fancy  it  would  only  be  trying." 

"Why?"  asked  the  astonished  bishop. 

"Unless  I  miss  my  guess,  you  will  find  Caton 
will  stay  out  of  town  until  he  is  needed." 

"What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"From  the  character  of  Dudley.  If  Caton  is  a 
wavering  cuss,  waiting  for  something,  Dudley 
isn't  going  to  let  him  stick  around  where  you  can 
reach  him.  You're  a  magnetic  chap,  Doc,  and 
I  reckon  Dudley  knows  that.  But  this  Kearney, 
what  of  him?" 

"I'll  tell  you,  Jack,  Kearney  is  a  queer  com 
bination.  Of  course,  being  Dudley's  right-hand 
man  and  speaker  of  the  council,  one  would  nat 
urally  think  Kearney  would  follow  Dudley's  de 
sires  without  question.  And,  in  ordinary  cases, 
I  believe  he  would.  But  in  this  franchise  ques 
tion  there  are  so  many  people  involved,  whose 
money  would  be  lost  did  Dudley  win,  that  I  have 
hopes  before  the  fight  is  over  that  Kearney  will 
come  our  way." 

"Turn  down  his  boss?  You  are  unsophisti 
cated,  Doc." 


BROTHERS  CONFIDE  205 

"Perhaps,  but  I  am  convinced  Kearney  has  a 
heart,  and  I  am  going  to  work  on  that.  I  don't 
believe  he  would  stand  for  ingratitude  on  Dud 
ley's  part,  and  if  we  could  get  what  you  would 
term  'the  goods'  on  Dudley,  I  think  Kearney 
might  be  won." 

"In  other  words,  'bite  the  hand  that  feeds  him.' 
Do  you  know  Kearney?" 

"Sure,"  laughed  the  bishop,  "I've  met  him  sev 
eral  times.  He  comes  to  church  frequently,  and 
we  have  had  several  pleasant  little  chats.  He's 
quaint  and  jolly." 

"Joshes  you,  eh,  Doc?  Well,  it's  been  my  ex 
perience  that  an  Irishman  who  does  that  is  dan 
gerous.  There  may  be  a  good-sized  brick  be 
hind  every  grin." 

"Nonsense,  Jack!    I  want  you  to  meet  him." 

"I'm  going  to — don't  fear.  But  this  Dudley 
• — you  know  he's  immensely  wealthy,  and  it  may 
not  be  so  easy  to  get  the  goods  on  him.  These 
rich  cusses  generally  have  a  large  and  experi 
enced  staff  of  lawyers  to  cover  up  their  tracks, 
and  keep  them  out  of  trouble." 

The  bishop  then  described  in  minute  detail  the 
stormy  interview  he  had  had  with  Dudley  the  day 
before,  and,  in  closing,  said:  "I  met  a  Miss  Sher 
man  in  Dudley's  office,  his  secretary,  I  take  it, 


and  a  very  pretty  girl ;  she  is  a  churchwoman,  and 
I  hope  to  see  her  at  service." 

When  the  bishop  mentioned  Mary  Sherman's 
name,  Jack  Anderson  yawned  and  said : 

"Cut  out  the  women,  Doc,  they're  not  mixed 
up  in  this  fight." 

"I  merely  mentioned  it  as  an  incident.  Miss 
Sherman  is  a  very  sweet,  pretty  girl,  and  I  can't 
conceive  of  her  working  for  a  man  like  Dudley." 

"Women  are  queer  creatures.  You  say  she  is 
pretty?" 

"Yes— beautiful." 

Jack  arose  and  laughingly  said:  "Guess  I'd 
better  tell  Helen  to  keep  her  eyes  on  you,  Doc." 

"Nonsense,  Jack,"  pleasantly  replied  his 
brother,  "being  a  bishop  doesn't  preclude  my  ad 
miring  female  beauty — does  it?" 

"Not  on  your  life,  Doc.  That's  the  man  of 
it." 

They  talked  a  short  while  longer,  and  the  cap 
tain  said: 

"Now,  I've  got  all  the  details  and  here's  where 
I  begin.  You  tell  Flanagan  to  have  Rabbi  Wise, 
Father  Leahy  and  Dr.  Arnold  keep  a  tight  rein 
on  the  eleven  councilmen  on  our  side.  Don't  let 
any  of  them  get  away.  You  can't  get  to  Caton, 
but  I'll  find  him.  You  also  get  your  work  in  on 


BROTHERS  CONFIDE  207 

Kearney,  and  I'll  start  to  find  out  what  I  can 
about  Dudley.  I  want  to  know  every  move  he 
makes  in  his  office." 

"How  are  you  going  to  do  that?" 

"Never  mind  how,  Doc — I'm  going  to  do  it, 
that's  all.  Just  remember  this :  I  am  in  this  fight 
to  help  you — but  I  must  work  in  my  own  way 
without  any  interference.  Don't  forget,  old  man, 
what  my  interest  is  in  the  whole  matter.  It's  not 
unselfish,  you  know,  because  I'm  fighting  for  the 
girl." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  bishop  softly.  He  did 
know,  and  it  was  a  sore  spot  in  his  heart.  But 
much  could  happen  in  three  months,  and  maybe 
in  the  excitement  Jack  would  forget  this  woman. 
New  York  was  over  twenty-five  hundred  miles 
away. 

The  brothers  went  downtown  together,  and 
after  luncheon,  separated.  Mother  Anderson 
and  Helen  spent  the  day  shopping  and  driv 
ing  about  the  parks.  Both  were  tired  when  they 
returned  and  after  dinner  the  mother  and  Jack 
took  a  little  walk.  They  were  gone  about  an 
hour,  and  when  they  returned  the  ladies  retired, 
leaving  the  bishop  and  captain  together. 

"Well,  Doc— what  luck?" 

"Not  much.    I  called  at  Caton's  office  and  also 


208     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

at  his  residence,  and  in  both  instances  was  in 
formed  he  was  out  of  town  for  a  few  days." 

"Excuse  my  laughing!  Now,  let  me  tell  you 
something.  He  won't  be  back  for  three  months. 
He's  in  Yuma,  Arizona." 

"Yuma!    Where's  that?" 

"That's  the  place  the  Lord  didn't  finish  when 
He  made  the  world." 

"What's  Caton  doing  in  that  out-of-the-way 
place?" 

"Oh,  he's  special  correspondent  of  The  Banner. 
Of  course,  that's  a  subterfuge.  Dudley's  keep- 
ing.him  out  of  the  way." 

"Jack,  where  did  you  get  this  information?" 

The  captain  grinned,  as  he  replied :  "Well,  you 
see,  Doc,  when  mother  and  I  were  walking  in  the 
park  this  evening,  a  little  bird  came  and  sat  down 
beside  me,  and  whispered  it  in  my  ear — that's 
how." 

"But " 

"No  'buts'  about  it,  Doc;  I  got  it,  and  it's  au 
thentic,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  You  are  not 
to  ask  questions — and  I'll  give  you  facts.  Now, 
I'm  going  to  get  Caton.  Within  a  few  days  I'm 
going  to  disappear  for  a  while, — but  I'll  keep  you 
posted." 


BROTHERS  CONFIDE  209 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"New  England,  New  York,  and  then  maybe 
Arizona." 

"New  York?" 

"Yes,  New  York.  I  know  what's  going 
through  your  mind  right  now,  Doc,  and  I'll 
promise  you  I  won't  see  the  girl  in  New  York, 
not  until  after  your  fight  is  over." 

The  bishop  was  relieved.  He  wanted  to  keep 
his  brother  away  from  the  woman  as  long  as  pos 
sible.  And  he  knew  Jack's  promise  was  as  good 
as  his  bond  and  would  be  kept. 

There  was  nothing  very  exciting  during  the 
remainder  of  the  week,  and  Sunday  morning  the 
entire  family  went  to  service  in  the  temple.  The 
bishop  preached,  taking  as  his  text — as  he  had 
told  Kearney  he  would — "Lord,  I  thank  Thee  I 
am  not  like  other  men," — the  Pharisee.  Kearney 
was  there,  and  so  was  Mary  Sherman.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  tone  of  the  bishop's  dis 
course,  and  the  Irishman  enjoyed  every  word  of 
it. 

After  service  Mary  Sherman  stepped  out  with 
out  being  seen.  But  the  bishop  caught  Kearney, 
and  introduced  him  to  Jack. 


210     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Captain  Anderson — 
I've  heard  of  you." 

"Pleasantly,  I  hope,  Mr.  Kearney,"  replied  the 
captain,  smiling,  but  looking  straight  at  Dudley's 
right-hand  man. 

Kearney  returned  the  look.  Here  was  the  man 
in  the  "Carew  woman's  case!"  He  sized  him  up, 
and  replied : 

"Nothing  otherwise,  Captain." 

At  dinner  that  day  Jack  said:  "Doc,  I  like 
Kearney.  You  go  for  him  for  all  you're  worth. 
Only  be  diplomatic.  You  can't  drive  that 
man  any  place,  but  you  may  lead  him." 

Later,  while  sitting  on  the  porch,  the  bishop 
observed : 

"There's  Miss  Sherman,  Jack — Dudley's  sec 
retary." 

"Who,  that  tall  girl  walking  through  the  park? 
And  you  call  her  good  looking?" 

"Surely,  don't  you?" 

"I'm  not  much  of  a  judge,  Doc — what  do  you 
think  of  her,  Mother?" 

"She's  too  far  away  for  me  to  see  her  face, 
but  she  carries  herself  well." 

The  little  mother  gave  Jack's  arm  a  squeeze, 
but  that  worthy  only  grinned. 


BROTHERS  CONFIDE  211 

That  evening  Kearney  had  supper  with  Dud 
ley.  He  always  did  on  Sunday  evenings.  While 
they  were  having  their  cigars  out  on  the  lawn,  he 
said: 

"I  found  out  this  morning  what  a  Pharisee  is, 
Jim.  Bishop  Anderson  preached  on  the  gent. 
He's  a  mean,  ornery  cuss  that  thinks  he's  better 
than  any  one  else  on  earth.  Pretty  nifty  talk." 

"Giving  me  hell  again,  was  he?" 

"Naw,  he  gave  you  hell  the  first  Sunday  he  was 
here.  To-day  he  just  shoved  you  in  it — that's 
all." 

Dudley  just  grunted — he  would  bide  his  time 
— allow  the  bishop  to  "run  down,"  as  he  called  it. 

"I  also  met  the  bishop's  brother,  the  captain." 

"You  did!    What's  he  doing  here?" 

"Just  visiting,  I  guess.  He's  a  pretty  smart- 
looking  chap,  too.  Looks  more  like  a  fighter  than 
his  brother — though  we  will  admit  the  bishop  can 
go  some." 

"Bah!" 

"This  captain  looks  like  he  might  fight  in  a  dif 
ferent  way  from  his  brother.  More  activity  and 
less  words  as  it  were." 

"Both  tarred  with  the  same  stick,  Kearney,  and 
I'll  crush  'em.  Wait  till  I  find  the  Carew  woman. 
She'll  turn  up  and  I'll  see  her." 


212  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Well,  she  hasn't  turned  up  yet,  Jim." 

"No,  but  she  will." 

"Maybe." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

JACK   LEAVES   FOR    PARTS    UNKNOWN 

MONDAY  and  Tuesday  were  very  busy  days  for 
the  bishop.  His  two  daughters  returned  from 
school  and  he  and  Helen  were  happy.  So  was  the 
little  mother  who  doted  on  her  grandchildren. 
Jack  was  left  pretty  much  to  his  own  resources 
and  spent  the  time,  as  he  said,  "nosing  around." 
Tuesday  evening,  just  after  dark  the  mother  and 
Jack  took  another  walk  in  the  park,  and  that 
night,  when  the  brothers  were  alone,  the  captain 
said: 

"I'm  going  to  beat  it  out  of  town  to-morrow, 
Doc." 

"Where?" 

"I'll  tell  you  frankly.  I'm  on  Caton's  trail — 
don't  ask  me  any  more.  I  expect  to  be  back  in  a 
week  or  ten  days,  and  then  I  hope  to  arrange  my 
own  affairs.  This  thing  evidently  is  going  to  take 

all  summer." 

213 


214  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

The  next  night  at  nine  he  bade  them  all  good 
bye  and  left.  They  heard  from  him  once  from 
Chicago — again  a  card  dated  New  York,  and,  fi 
nally,  a  telegram  from  Vermont,  simply  saying, 
"Trip  successful — starting  west." 

In  due  time  he  arrived,  and  when  he  and  the 
bishop  were  alone,  he  said: 

"Well,  I  think  we  can  count  on  Caton's  vote." 

"How?" 

"Oh,  I  believe  I  will  have  him  where  he'll  have 
to  vote  the  way  I  say,  or  be  run  out  of  town,  or 
worse." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Doc,  I  got  a  tip  on  Caton. 
Found  out  where  he  came  from — up  in  Vermont 
—and  went  there.  There  I  learned  some  things 
which  made  me  want  to  know  more,  and  Caton 
is  the  only  man  who  can  give  me  the  information." 
Jack  stopped  for  a  moment  and  then  continued : 
"Caton  isn't  a  hard  man  to  trace;  by  the  way, 
his  real  name  isn't  Caton." 

"No,"  asked  the  bishop;  "what  is  it  then?" 

"That  I  shall  tell  you  later,  and  then  we  shall 
see  what  we  shall  see." 

"Are  you  going  to  Yuma  to  see  Caton?"  in 
quired  the  bishop. 

"No,"  grinned  his  brother,  "I'm  not  going,  but 


JACK  LEAVES  215 

my  man  Raymond  will  be  here  to-night — and  he 
is." 

"Yes,  and  then- 

"Wait  a  minute,  Doc,  I'm  doing  this  my  way. 
Now  let  up  with  your  questions  and  watch  the 
results.  I  can  land  Caton.  Can  you  land  Kear 
ney?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  the  bishop,  with  a 
deprecatory  shake  of  the  head — and  here  the 
conversation  ended. 

Both  sides  settled  down  to  a  long,  hard  siege. 
Dudley's  dozen  were  secure.  Caton  was  away, 
and  Kearney  was  always  on  deck.  The  weather 
grew  very  warm,  but  the  bishop  and  his  associates 
never  lagged.  They  were  always  pounding,  but 
each  day  they  realized  the  stone  wall  they  were  up 
against — twelve  to  eleven — and  Kearney  and 
Caton.  Caton  voting  against  the  American 
would  mean  thirteen  to  eleven ;  voting  with  them 
the  vote  would  be  twelve  to  twelve — and  then 
came  Kearney. 

The  bishop  met  Kearney  several  times  in  a  very 
casual  manner,  but  never  could  corner  him. 
Kearney  knew  what  was  in  the  bishop's  mind, 
and  avoided  having  any  private  and  personal  in 
terview  with  this  magnetic  man.  Kearney  knew 
the  bishop  was  right,  but  he  was  working  for 


Dudley.  It  was  his  living — and,  anyway,  he 
had  been  too  long  in  the  traces  to  break  over 
now. 

"Jack,"  said  the  bishop  one  warm  August 
evening,  "we've  got  to  get  something  on  Dud 
ley." 

"Sure,  I  know  that,  Doc — and  I  have  a  clue 
which  may  lead  some  place.  I  got  it  last  night. 
Don't  ask  me  what  it  is." 

The  next  day,  however,  Jack  said  to  his 
brother,  "Doc,  I've  got  something  on  Dudley — 
and  if  we  can  prove  it,  I  believe  we  not  only  can 
swing  Kearney,  but  the  whole  push." 

"What  is  it,  Jack?" 

For  an  hour  the  brothers  talked,  and  at  the 
end  the  bishop  said:  "You're  a  wonder,  Jack— 
if  the  story  can  be  proven.    But  where  have  you 
been  getting  all  this  information  from?" 

"The  birds  in  the  park,  Doc.  You'll  know 
some  time — but  not  yet,"  Jack  grinned. 

"I've  a  wire  from  Raymond.  He  has  located 
Caton,  and  he'll  never  leave  him  for  one  instant 
until  the  fight  is  over.  He  will  deliver  Caton  to 
you  and  Flanagan,  and  I'm  going  to  handle  this 
Dudley  lead  myself." 

"Certainly,  I  wouldn't  want  any  one  else  to 
handle  it."  ' 


JACK  LEAVES  217 

Dudley  hadn't  been  idle  all  summer,  though 
there  wasn't  much  for  him  to  do.  His  bunch  were 
lined  up,  and  Caton  was  out  of  the  way  until  he 
came  back  to  vote.  The  Tribune  and  Scimitar 
kept  up  their  pounding,  but  Dudley  just  grinned. 
The  plum  was  ripening  in  the  summer  sun,  and 
in  a  few  days  he  would  pluck  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND" 

YUMA,  Arizona,  as  Captain  Anderson  so  viv 
idly  described  it,  was  the  jumping  off  place  of  the 
world,  and  when  Robert  Caton  landed  there, 
after  having  been  employed  by  Kearney  as  a 
"special  correspondent"  for  The  Presidio  Banner, 
he  was  far  from  being  in  a  very  agreeable  frame 
of  mind.  When  Kearney  put  him  aboard  "The 
Limited,"  bound  East,  he  gave  Caton  two  hun 
dred  dollars'  expense  money  and  his  first  week's 
salary,  or  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  all. 
With  this  amount  Caton  felt  reasonably  pleasant 
until  he  struck  the  great  American  desert.  Here 
the  heat  almost  shriveled  him,  and  he  made  fre 
quent  trips  to  the  buffet  car  to  alleviate  his  feel 
ings.  He  did  not  succeed  to  any  great  extent, 
and  when  he  landed  in  Yuma  he  was  not  pos 
sessed  of  a  lucid  idea. 

Two  days  later  he  came  to  his  senses  in  the 
218 


A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND"    219 

best  room  of  Yuma's  leading  hostelry,  about  as 
woebegone  a  specimen  of  humanity  as  could  be 
found  in  a  day's  travel.  He  pushed  a  button  and 
presently  a  Mexican  bellboy  appeared. 

"Where  in  creation  am  I?"  growled  Caton. 

The  brown-skinned  boy  grinned  and  replied: 

"In  Yuma,  Arizona,  los  estados,  unidos, 
senor" 

"Yuma,"  gasped  Caton;  "oh,  yes,"  and  then  he 
remembered.  He  was  a  special  correspondent  of 
The  Presidio  Banner — and  Yuma  was  to  be  his 
field  of  endeavor  for  the  remainder  of  the  sum 
mer.  A  glance  out  of  the  window  over  the  tops 
of  the  adobe  houses  caused  Caton  to  gasp: 

"Good  Heavens!  what  a  dump  to  throw  a  man 
into — sand,  sand,  sand,  as  far  as  you  can  see !  A 
bunch  of  half  breed  greasers,  a  few  slab-sided  cat 
tle,  and  a  million  fleas.  I  won't  stay  here — 
danged  if  I  will.  I'll  wire  Dudley." 

Right  here  he  ceased  growling.  What  would 
he  wire  Dudley  ?  What  could  he  wire  him  ?  He 
had  accepted  his  money  and  was  on  his  payroll. 
One  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  weekly!  Not  so 
bad,  even  for  Yuma.  Caton  knew  Dudley's 
power;  knew  he  could  break  him  the  minute  he 
made  one  false  move.  He  gave  up  in  disgust, 
determined  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 


220  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

A  few  days  later,  under  the  influence  of  mescal 
and  pulque,  he  did  think  of  Pat  Kearney.  He 
had  engineered  this  deal,  and  to  Kearney  Caton 
would»appeal  for  relief.  Accordingly,  he  wired: 

"Yuma  is  a  perfect  hole.  How  long  must  I 
stay?" 

That  afternoon  his  answer  came : 

"So  long  as  Yuma  is  a  hole,  what  do  you  care, 
since  you  say  it's  a  perfect  one.  You  stay  there 
until  September  21st,  then  come  here.  Salary 
check  for  current  week  mailed  to-day. 

"(Signed)  KEARNEY." 

"That's  what  I  call  a  rotten  joke,"  grumbled 
Caton,  as  he  tore  the  message  to  bits,  and  cast 
them  adrift  on  the  dry  Arizona  breeze. 

The  summer  wore  away,  and  Caton  had  good 
sense  enough  to  keep  to  himself.  No  one  in 
Yuma  cared  a  rap  about  who  he  was  or  what  he 
was  doing  there,  so  long  as  he  paid  his  way  and 
minded  his  own  business.  And  these  things  he 
did. 

One  hot  afternoon  in  late  August,  Caton  was 
down  at  the  Southern  Pacific  depot  when  the 
Limited  rolled  in,  and  saw  among  the  motley 


A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND"    221 

crowd  of  passengers  a  dapper-looking  six-footer 
get  off  the  train.  Civilization  was  written  all 
over  the  man's  appearance,  and  he  assuredly  did 
look  good  to  Caton.  The  stranger  had  a  pleas 
ant  face  and  looked  like  a  man  who  would  be  able 
to  take  care  of  himself  under  any  circumstances. 
A  short  while  later  Caton  saw  him  enter  the  prin 
cipal  hotel,  register  and  go  to  a  room.  The  regis 
ter  revealed  his  name — "Howard  Raymond,  Chi 
cago." 

"Chicago!"  ruminated  Caton,  "the  big  city  up 
by  the  great  cool  lake.  What  in  blazes  would 
bring  a  man  from  Chicago  to  Yuma,  and  in  Aug 
ust.  Phew!  Must  be  mighty  important." 

And,  right  there,  Caton  determined  to  find  out 
all  about  Mr.  Raymond.  It  would  be  a  digres 
sion  from  the  daily  grind  of  doing  nothing. 

That  evening  Caton  waited  until  Raymond 
had  entered  the  dining  room,  and  then  followed. 
He  seated  himself  at  the  same  table  with  the  Chi- 
cagoan. 

A  frontier  hotel  dining  table  just  naturally 
promotes  acquaintance  between  men  and  Ray 
mond  made  the  first  advance. 

"Fine  evening,  eh?" 

"Fine  evening!"  exclaimed  Caton.  "You 
think  so?" 


222  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Sure,"  smiled  Raymond,  "fine  for  me.  But 
permit  me  to  introduce  myself.  I'm  Mr.  How 
ard  Raymond,  of  Chicago.  Out  here  for  my 
health,"  tapping  his  chest  significantly. 

"Oh,"  thought  Raymond,  "a  busted  lunger." 
Then  aloud : 

"You  don't  look  it,  Mr.  Raymond.  My  name 
is  Caton — from "  then  he  stopped.  Ray 
mond  did  not  appear  to  notice  Caton's  hesitation, 
and  the  two  men  shook  hands. 

"No,"  continued  Raymond,  "I  know  I  do  not 
look  it,  but  I  just  caught  it  in  time.  This  climate 
ought  to  help  me." 

"If  you  want  dryness,  it  sure  will,"  answered 
Caton.  "I've  been  here  nearly  two  months,  and 
there  hasn't  been  enough  moisture  to  rust  a  tack." 

Raymond  laughed.  "Suppose  we  have  some 
'moisture'  now?" 

"Sure,"  acquiesced  Caton. 

Thus  a  feeling  of  camaraderie  was  formed,  and 
the  time  passed  more  pleasantly  for  Caton.  His 
weekly  check  from  Dudley  enabled  him  to  do  his 
part,  and  Raymond  appeared  to  be  in  funds. 

September  came  along  and  about  the  fifteenth 
Raymond  announced  he  would  shortly  be  leav 
ing. 

"Going  away?"  queried  Caton.    "Where  to?" 


A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND"    223 

"Oh,  I  guess  I'll  take  a  run  up  to  Phoenix. 
Want  to  go  'long?" 

"I'd  like  to,  but  I  can't  now."  Caton  remem 
bered  Kearney's  instructions. 

Raymond  expressed  his  regret,  and,  as  this  was 
to  be  their  last  evening  together,  proposed  a  quiet 
little  jollification,  to  which  Caton  willingly 
agreed.  They  made  the  rounds  of  the  various  re 
sorts,  and  at  each  place  had  a  drink  or  two.  That 
is,  Caton  did  most  of  the  drinking,  while  Ray 
mond  fed  him  up. 

Caton  was  quite  a  rounder,  but  could  stand  up 
under  a  load  a  bit  better  than  most  men.  A  cer 
tain  amount  of  liquor  made  him  sing;  a  little 
more  made  him  garrulous,  and  the  third  stage 
made  him  want  to  fight.  Raymond  endured  the 
singing  stage  until  Caton  sang  about  "The  Old 
Green  Mountain  State."  Three  times  Caton 
bawled  out  this  chorus,  and  each  time  Raymond 
ordered  up  another  round. 

Finally,  when  the  time  appeared  ripe,  Ray 
mond  steered  Caton  to  their  hotel,  and  took  him 
to  his  room.  One  more  drink  and  Raymond  cas 
ually  observed: 

"You're  fond  of  the  'Old  Green  Mountain 
State,'  eh,  Caton?" 

"Fond  of  it,"   bubbled   Caton,   "fond  of  it. 


224  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Why,  confound  it,  man,  I  love  it — was  born  and 
brought  up  there." 

"Sure,  you  lived  in  Burnham,  didn't  you?" 
Raymond  leaned  forward  and  looked  Caton 
straight  in  the  eye. 

"Burnham!"  exclaimed  Caton,  "who  said  any 
thing  about  Burnham?" 

"Why,  I  did,"  Raymond  answered.  -"I  was  up 
there  last  summer,  and  met  a  pleasant-faced 
woman  named — let  me  see" — and  pausing  a  mo 
ment  while  through  Caton's  befuddled  brain  be 
gan  to  crowd  memories  of  other  days — "oh,  yes, 
Nellie  Brant — that's  her  name — and,  Caton,  she 
had  a  boy  nine  years  old — a  nameless  boy.  She 
called  him  Robert  Carroll,  after  his  father.  I 
wonder  if  you  knew  them?" 

Raymond  stopped  and  Caton  stared  as  if  in 
a  trance.  His  brain  cleared  slightly,  he  real 
ized  there  was  something  beneath  the  exterior 
of  this  cool  and  collected  man  opposite,  which 
boded  ill  for  him. 

"Nellie  Brant!  A  boy— Robert  Carroll!" 
Caton  gasped. 

"Yes,  Caton,"  coldly  replied  Raymond,  "and, 
come  to  think  of  it,  the  boy  resembled  you. 
Strange,  wasn't  it?" 

Caton  got  up  and  paced  the  room.    His  brain 


A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND"    225 

was  running  riot.  What  did  this  smooth  Chi- 
cagoan  know?  Well,  he  wouldn't  give  in.  All 
that  had  been  said  might  have  been  pure  bluff. 
Anyway,  he  wouldn't  let  Raymond  get  away 
with  it.  He'd  beat  him  at  his  own  game.  Re 
suming  his  seat,  he  said : 

"Your  story  is  interesting,  Raymond,  ex 
tremely  interesting,  but  it  doesn't  concern  me, 
not  in  the  least." 

"Doesn't  it?"  snapped  Raymond;  "well,  then, 
perhaps  this  will,"  and  suddenly  he  held  a  photo 
graph  of  a  sweet  faced  woman  and  a  sturdy  boy 
in  front  of  Caton. 

Caton  was  dumbfounded  at  the  likeness  of  the 
woman  and  boy.  A  flood  of  memories  rushed 
over  him.  He  placed  his  hands  in  front  of  his 
eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  scenes, — his  body  rocked 
to  and  fro. 

"God  help  me!"  he  groaned.  Then  suddenly 
collecting  himself  he  looked  up  and  in  a  hopeless, 
hollow  voice  said : 

"Well,  Raymond,  what  do  you  want?  You've 
got  the  goods  on  me." 

A  gleam  of  triumph  flashed  from  Raymond's 
eyes,  as  he  replied: 

"Restitution  for  that  woman  and  that  boy." 


226  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Yes,  all  right,"  answered  the  now  subdued 
Caton. 

"But,  before  that,  there  is  something  else." 

"What?" 

"You  are  down  here  on  the  payroll  of  James 
Burchard  Dudley,  of  Presidio.  You  are  sup 
posed  to  be  a  correspondent  of  The  Presidio  Ban 
ner,  but,  in  reality,  you  were  sent  down  here  to 
get  you  out  from  under  the  influence  of  Bishop 
Anderson  in  the  Presidio  franchise  fight,  and  you 
are  to  return  in  time  to  record  your  vote  against 
the  American  company.  Now  you're  going  back 
to  Presidio  with  me,  and  you're  going  to  vote 
against  Dudley  and  his  crowd;  then  you're  go 
ing  back  to  Vermont  and  play  the  man." 

Every  word  uttered  by  Raymond  sank  in  Ca- 
ton's  soul  like  fire,  but  he  feared  Dudley. 

"Not  vote  against  Jim  Dudley,  "The  Big 
Chief!'"  he  exclaimed.  "If  I  do,  he'll  break 
me." 

"Break  you,  eh?"  sneered  Raymond.  "Well, 
which  would  you  rather  do — be  broken  by  Dud 
ley,  or  arrested  by  Vermont?"  He  paused  a  mo 
ment,  then  continued: 

"Come,  Caton,  be  a  man.  You  have  a  chance 
to  do  two  good  things,  and  then  start  all  over 


A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND"    227 

again.  Beat  Dudley,  who  is  wrong,  then  go  back 
to  Vermont,  and " 

"Stop,"  interrupted  the  now  thoroughly  cowed 
Caton,  "I'll  do  as  you  say.  I'm  licked,  and  I 
know  it." 

"No,  you're  not  licked,  Caton,  you've  won  a 
big,  decent  victory." 

That  morning  the  telegraph  wires  bore  this 
message  to  Bishop  Anderson: 

"Man  penitent.  Will  act  as  you  desire.  Hid 
ing  until  we  come  north. 

"RAYMOND." 

The  council  was  to  meet  September  25th,  and 
ten  days  previous  Jack  Anderson  disappeared 
from  view.  On  the  22nd,  Kearney  wired  Caton 
to  come  home.  The  telegraph  company  reported 
''Non-delivery.  Party  left  town  yesterday." 
Here  was  a  shock  for  Dudley.  Where  was  Ca 
ton?  Kearney,  too,  was  doing  some  thinking. 
Neither  of  them  could  reason  it  out.  But  on  the 
evening  of  the  24th,  Caton  appeared  in  Presidio. 

Of  course,  Kearney  heard  of  it,  and  going  to 
Caton's  house  met  that  gentleman.  He  also  met 
Raymond,  who  stuck  as  close  to  Caton  as  a 
brother.  Kearney  wanted  some  private  conver- 


228  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

sation  with  Caton,  who  well  knew  just  what 
would  be  said.  But  Raymond  didn't  move.  Fi 
nally  Caton  blurted  out: 

"No  use,  Pat — I'm  against  you  on  the  fran 
chise.  My  vote  will  be  counted  for  the  Ameri 
can." 

Kearney  looked  at  Caton  and  then  at  Ray 
mond, — the  game  was  up.  Some  influence  had 
been  at  work  on  Caton.  But  what — what  ?  For 
once  Kearney  had  missed  a  trick  and  he  wasn't  in 
a  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind  when  he  made  his 
report  to  Dudley. 

"I  told  you,  Jim,  that  bishop  would  jolt  you. 
He's  got  Caton  sewed  up  and  a  great  big  guy 
over  there  watching  him,  so  he  won't  get 
away." 

Dudley  was  furious.  "Wait  until  I  get  Ca 
ton — he  won't  be  able  to  live  in  this  town,  but 
even  yet  we  have  our  twelve,  and  you're  in  the 
chair." 

"Sure,  I  know  that!  I  was  in  hopes,  however, 
I  would  not  have  to  vote  on  this  bloomin'  fran 
chise." 

"But  you  will  vote,  Kearney?"  anxiously  in 
quired  Dudley.  He  couldn't  lose  now. 

"Sure,  I'll  vote  all  right,  Dudley." 

That  evening  Bishop  Anderson  received  a  wire 


A  CERTAIN  "HOWARD  RAYMOND"    229 

from  his  brother  Jack,  dated  Wheeling,  West 
Virginia,  saying: 

"Arrive  ten  to-morrow  morning.  Witness 
with  me — a  peach." 

"Glorious!"  shouted  the  bishop,  and  that  night 
he  retired  early,  to  be  ready  for  to-morrow's  bat 
tle.  He  had  the  ammunition  with  which  to  at 
tack — not  Dudley — not  the  council — but  could 
he  get  Kearney?  That  was  his  man,  and,  while 
the  bishop  well  knew  Kearney's  loyalty  to  Dud 
ley,  he  was  hoping  and  praying  for  the  miracle 
to  happen. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   MEETING   OF   THE   CITY    COUNCIL 

SEPTEMBER  25th  dawned  bright  and  clear; 
there  was  just  a  suspicion  of  the  tang  of  fall  in 
the  air.  The  Tribune  and  the  early  editions  of 
The  Scimitar  were  filled  with  a  resume  of  the 
bitter  fight,  and  they  made  one  last  plea  to  the 
council.  They  were  really  hoping  against  hope ; 
they  knew  the  "twelve  to  twelve  with  Kearney 
in  the  chair  situation,"  and  believed  the  battle 
lost.  So  did  Rabbi  Wise,  Dr.  Arnold,  Father 
Leahy  and  Flanagan.  They  admitted  the  bishop 
had  made  a  good  fight,  but,  as  usual,  Dudley 
would  win. 

The  bishop  hadn't  informed  them  of  his  latest 
news.  He  wanted  to  be  sure,  before  he  did. 
He  made  up  his  mind  before  the  council  voted 
he  would  make  one  last  plea  to  their  manhood 
and  honor.  If  he  did  go  down,  his  colors  would 

be  flying. 

230 


MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    231 

The  council  was  scheduled  to  meet  at  twelve 
o'clock,  noon,  and  long  before  that  hour,  the 
space  reserved  for  the  general  public  was  filled  to 
overflowing  with  people,  anxious  to  see  the  last 
act  of  the  franchise  fight.  It  was  an  heteroge 
neous  crowd  of  all  sorts  and  conditions.  Some 
came  out  of  idle  curiosity — but  to  many  of  them, 
stockholders  of  the  old  American,  the  result  of 
this  meeting  meant  everything.  If  Dudley's 
franchise  ordinance  was  adopted,  their  beauti 
fully  engraved  stock  certificates  would  not  be 
worth  the  paper  upon  which  they  were  printed 
— and  they  were  hoping  against  hope  for  some 
thing  to  turn  apparent  defeat  of  their  interests 
into  victory. 

Mother  Anderson  and  Helen  were  there.  So 
were  Flanagan,  Rabbi  Wise,  Dr.  Arnold,  Father 
Leahy,  and  a  score  of  others,  who  had  been  as 
sisting  Bishop  Anderson  all  through  the  hot  sum 
mer  campaign  just  drawing  to  a  close.  The 
gloom  of  uncertainty  was  on  their  faces.  The 
only  person  in  the  audience  who  seemed  the  least 
bit  happy  was  Mother  Anderson.  She  nodded 
and  smiled,  greeting  her  acquaintances  in  her 
pleasant  manner. 

The  members  of  the  council  slowly  assembled, 
and,  as  each  man  moved  to  his  desk,  a  hundred 


pairs  of  eyes  were  focussed  upon  him,  in  hopes 
that  thought  waves  might  either  hold  him  fast, 
or  make  him  change  his  mind,  be  he  for  or  against 
their  interests.  Caton  came  shambling  in,  fol 
lowed  by  Raymond ;  Caton — the  uncertain.  But 
there  was  no  uncertainty  in  his  own  mind — he 
would  vote  as  the  man  Raymond  told  him  to— 
and  that  evening  his  berth  was  reserved  on  a  train 
which  would  bear  him  back  to  the  "woman  and 
child  in  Vermont."  His  term  as  councilman 
would  expire  next  month,  and  well  did  he  know 
what  Dudley  would  do  to  him  after  this  fight  was 
over. 

Was  Dudley  there?  Surely — but  not  out 
among  the  crowd.  He  entered  the  speaker's  pri 
vate  office,  and  found  Kearney  sitting  in  his  big 
chair,  feet  cocked  up  on  the  desk,  smoking  his 
usual  black  cigar.  Kearney  was  simply  waiting 
for  the  time  when  he  would  set  the  wheels  in  mo 
tion  to  do  Dudley's  bidding.  In  his  heart  he  was 
sick  of  the  whole  business. 

"Well,  Kearney,"  said  Dudley,  rubbing  his 
hands  in  a  gleeful  manner,  "to-day  sees  the  finish 
of  this  fight." 

"Yes,  it  does,  Dudley,"  replied  the  speaker, 
dropping  his  feet  and  biting  his  cigar,  "council 
meets  in  a  few  minutes  and  about  all  we  have  to 


MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    233 

do  is  to  pass  the  ordinance.  Mayor  Schultz  is 
waiting  to  sign  it.  Then  it's  all  over."  He 
paused  a  moment  and  then  concluded:  "Satisfied, 
Jim?" 

"Satisfied?  Certainly,"  Dudley  replied  grim 
ly.  "I  said  I'd  beat  that  bishop,  and  I  guess  I 
have."  There  was  joy  in  his  gruff  tones — an 
other  victory — another  scalp — and  Presidio  more 
securely  in  his  power  than  ever. 

"Well,  it's  been  a  merry  old  fight,  Jim. 
You've  got  to  give  the  bishop  credit  for  that. 
He's  fought  hard  and  stirred  this  old  town  up. 
There  won't  be  enough  left  of  the  present  admin 
istration  to  sweep  up  when  the  election  comes  off 
in  November. " 

"Bah!  What  do  we  care  for  that?  The  trick 
will  be  turned,  and,  besides,  Kearney,  the  reform 
wave  won't  last.  Two  years  from  now  the  peo 
ple  will  have  forgotten  it,  and  then  we'll  all  go 
back  in  power.  You  know  even  New  York  has 
a  reform  wave  once  in  a  while.  Strong  and  Seth 
Low  both  beat  Tammany — but  what  did  it 
amount  to?  One  term,  and  the  tiger  came  right 
back  to  the  public  crib." 

Dudley  was  sure  of  his  statements — he  was 
an  adept  in  politics  and  couldn't  be  mistaken. 

"Sure,  I  know  that,  Chief.     But  remember 


234     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

what  that  man  said?"  pointing  to  a  large  paint 
ing  of  Abraham  Lincoln  over  the  desk.  "  'You 
can't  fool  all  the  people  all  the  time,'  and  this 
bunch  of  Scandinavian — Jew — Irish — Russian 
— German-American  citizens  of  Presidio  is 
pretty  well  worked  up.  All  they  needed  was  a 
leader.  Well,  they  got  one  in  this  Bishop  Ander 
son,  and  as  long  as  he  sticks  around  he's  going 
to  keep  you  up  nights." 

But  Dudley  thought  different.  "Nothing  to 
it,  Kearney — he's  going  to  be  the  worst  licked 
man  in  Presidio  to-day,  and  then  he'll  quit." 

"Quit!  Huh!  You  fool  yourself!  I  heard 
him  lecture  once  on  a  chap  named  John  Paul 
Jones,  and  I  reckon  the  bishop  and  John  Paul 
are  some  kin.  'He's  just  begun  to  fight.' ' 

Dudley  eyed  his  man  closely.  Was  Kearney 
beginning  to  hedge?  Impossible  thought! 
"You're  dreaming,  Kearney.  Got  all  the  men 
lined  up?  Sure?" 

"Twelve  of  them  are  roped — branded  and  tied 
like  yearling  calves,  and  I  am  the  thirteenth. 
Lucky  little  guy,  ain't  I?" 

Dudley  laughed  loudly.    "Good!" 

Kearney  rose  to  his  feet — tossed  away  his  cigar, 
saying : 

"Do  you  ever  forgive  an  enemy,  Dudley?" 


MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    235 

"No,  Kearney,  I  haven't  time.  I'll  tell  you 
what — you  do  the  forgiving  and  I'll  do  the  fight 
ing."  Dudley  was  in  rare  good  humor. 

There  was  almost  a  feeling  of  disgust  in  the 
speaker's  mind  as  he  heard  his  employer's  words. 
What  manner  of  man  was  he  ?  After  twenty-five 
years  in  his  service  Kearney  still  wondered. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  he  quietly  said,  glancing  at 
his  watch.  "Going  to  stick  around  and  see  the 
obsequies?" 

"No,"  replied  the  chief,  dra  ving  on  his  auto 
gloves,  "I  don't  care  to  be  around  to  gloat.  I'll 
do  that  in  my  office.  You  can  get  me  there  on 
the  'phone,  if  you  want  me.  So  long,"  and  left. 
He  paid  no  attention  to  the  scowls  of  people  he 
saw — what  did  he  care  ?  He  had  beaten  them  all 
once  again.  Some  day  they  would  learn  how 
useless  it  was  to  fight  him. 

Kearney  watched  this  confident,  cock-sure  edi 
tor  depart — and,  shaking  his  head,  slowly  went 
out  into  the  council  chamber.  He  spoke  to  coun- 
cilmen,  pausing  here  and  there  for  a  moment  for 
a  word  with  some  political  shyster,  masquerading 
under  the  garb  of  decency.  His  twelve  were 
there — he  would  count  them  and  then — and  then 
—he'd  vote — and  good-bye. 

Kearney  was  standing  by  the  railing  talking  to 


236  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Rowell,  of  The  Tribune,  when  Bishop  Anderson 
came  in,  with  a  stern,  set  face — but  not  yet  look 
ing  like  a  beaten  man.  He  saw  Kearney,  and 
came  towards  him  with  outstretched  hand. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Kearney,"  he  said,  smil 
ing. 

Kearney  returned  the  handshake,  and  said : 

"Morning,  Bishop."  He  marvelled  that  this 
man  would  shake  hands  with  him,  when  in  a  few 
minutes,  his — Kearney's — vote  would  beat  him. 
He  continued: 

"Do  you  know,  Bishop,  you're  the  best  loser  I 
ever  saw  in  my  life." 

"Loser?"  replied  the  bishop  with  a  peculiar 
smile.  "We  haven't  lost  yet." 

"No,  but  it'll  be  all  over  in  a  few  minutes. 
Just  a  little  formality  of  counting  the  votes,  you 
know." 

Again  the  smile.  Kearney  wondered  what  it 
meant. 

"Well,  we  will  wait  until  they  are  counted," 
then,  putting  one  hand  on  the  speaker's  shoulder, 
the  bishop  continued  in  a  very  earnest  voice: 
"Kearney,  haven't  you  a  conscience?" 

Kearney  was  uneasy.  This  bishop  was  most 
magnetic,  and  there  was  an  irresistible  sincerity 
about  him  hard  to  evade. 


MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    237 

"Conscience,  Bishop!"  he  exclaimed — "a  news 
paper  man  and  a  politician  with  a  conscience! 
Never  heard  of  it.  I  had  one  of  those  things 
when  I  first  came  here,  but  this  game  has  killed 
it." 

"Kearney,  I  once  officiated  at  a  funeral,  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  ceremony  the  supposed  corpse 
came  to  life.  It  was  just  a  case  of  suspended  ani 
mation.  Perhaps  that  is  the  case  with  your  con 
science." 

"Nothing  to  it,"  and  Kearney  laughed  as  he 
spoke,  "my  conscience  is  deader  than  a  door-nail, 
but,  Bishop  Anderson,  I  want  to  say  this :  you've 
put  up  a  dandy  fight,  and  you're  the  best  man 
that  ever  came  to  Presidio.  You're  beaten, 
though;  Dudley  always  wins.  I  like  you  per 
sonally,  and  only  fought  you  because  I  had  to— 
when  this  fight  is  over,  I'll  back  you  in  anything 
you  undertake.  But  keep  out  of  politics.  It's 
not  your  game.  You're  too  honest!" 

The  bishop  smiled  at  the  explosive  tribute. 

"Thank  you,  Kearney,  I  appreciate  what  you 
say.  But  don't  forget,  the  worst  is  yet  to  come." 

What  did  the  bishop  mean?  Why  that  ever 
lasting,  enigmatical  smile? 

"All  right,  Bishop,  I  won't.  Going  to  stay  for 
the  pow-wow?" 


238  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Yes,  I  think  I'll  see  it  through." 

Kearney  went  to  the  speaker's  desk,  wishing 
it  was  all  over.  The  bishop  was  on  his  nerves. 

Mother  Anderson  had  been  watching  her  son, 
as  he  conversed  with  Kearney.  When  the  bishop 
joined  the  ladies  she  inquired: 

"Who  is  that  man,  Henry?'* 

"That  is  Mr.  Kearney,  Mother,  the  one  man 
who  can  win  this  right  for  us." 

"Will  he,  do  you  think,  dear?"  anxiously  in 
quired  his  wife. 

"I  don't  know,  Helen,  I  am  going  to  give  him 
a  chance."  The  bishop  glanced  at  his  watch  and 
anxiously  said:  "I  wonder  where  Jack  is.  He 
wired  he  would  reach  Presidio  this  morning,  and 
here  it  is  nearly  noon." 

Mother  Anderson  smiled.  "Don't  you  worry 
about  Jack.  If  he  said  he  would  be  here,  he  will. 
Where  has  he  been,  anyway?  Ever  since  you 
boys  have  been  in  this  fight  I  haven't  seen  much 
of  Jack.  He's  been  in  New  York,  Chicago, 
Ohio,  and  a  dozen  other  places.  At  least,  that  is 
what  you  tell  me.  I  haven't  heard  from  him." 

Helen  Anderson  smiled,  and  said:  "Well, 
you've  been  having  a  good  time,  haven't  you, 
Mother  Anderson?" 

"Certainly  I  have — that's  my  business  in  life — 


MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    239 

having  a  good  time.  But  I  don't  like  this  being 
kept  in  the  dark.  What  is  it  all  about?" 

"You  wouldn't  understand,  Mother,"  impa 
tiently  replied  the  bishop.  "Later  I  will  tell 
you."  The  little  mother  just  smiled. 

Mr.  Flanagan  came  in  at  this  time,  and,  after 
greeting  the  ladies,  said : 

"Good  morning,  Bishop." 

"Well,  Flanagan,  here  we  are  at  the  last  hur 
dle." 

"Yes,  Doctor,  and  it  looks  bad." 

Plainly,  Flanagan  was  worried.  His  face 
showed  that.  Here  he  was  up  against  a  situation 
wherein  the  labor  of  a  lifetime  must  come  to 
naught — all  on  account  of  the  ruthless  ambition 
of  one  man.  Flanagan  had  a  right  to  be  worried. 
It  was  no  wonder  that  he  scanned  the  bishop's 
face  for  one  ray  of  hope.  But  the  bishop  gave  no 
sign. 

"What  about  Caton?"  asked  the  bishop;  "are 
we  sure  of  him?" 

"Caton?  Oh,  he'll  stand  hitched — your  broth 
er's  man,  Raymond,  has  him  so  he  must  vote  our 
way.  And  that  brings  us  up  against  the  proposi 
tion  I  outlined  to  you  some  months  back.  A  tie 
vote  with  Kearney  in  the  chair. 


240     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"And  that  means  —  well,  Bishop  —  that 
means 

Dr.  Anderson  thought  a  moment  and  then 
broke  in: 

"I've  been  talking  to  Kearney,  and  he  seems 
obdurate,  but  Mr.  Flanagan,  there  is  one  chance 
yet.  That  brother  of  mine  started  off  on  a  still 
hunt  ten  days  ago.  He  will  return  this  morning 
with  an  important  witness." 

Flanagan  looked  startled.  Like  a  drowning 
man  he  grasped  at  the  straw. 

"Witness!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  witness?  Do 
you  know?" 

"Yes,  Flanagan,  I  know,"  gently  replied  the 
bishop,  "but  I  can't  tell  even  you  just  now." 

"Was  there  still  a  chance?"  thought  Flan 
agan.  "Can  this  powerful  preacher  and  man 
win  a  fight,  which  seems  so  hopelessly  lost?  I 
hope  to  goodness  he  can !"  and,  shaking  his  head, 
he  went  over  and  sat  with  the  ladies — first  speak 
ing  a  word  with  Rabbi  Wise,  Dr.  Arnold  and 
Father  Leahy,  who  had  come  in. 

At  this  point  Jack  Anderson  entered  the  room. 
The  bishop  saw  him,  and,  going  quickly  to  his 
side,  shook  his  hand.  "I  thought  you  were  never 
coming,"  he  whispered. 


MEETING  OF  THE  CITY  COUNCIL    241 

"Train  late,"  laconically  replied  the  captain. 
"I  just  got  in." 

Mother  Anderson,  at  this  time,  caught  sight  of 
her  youngest  son,  and  started  towards  him.  Jack 
tried  to  stop  her  by  saying,  "Hello,  Mother.  I've 
no  time  for  kissing  now" — but  the  little  mother 
would  not  be  denied.  Her  boy  had  been  away  for 
a  long  time,  so  it  seemed  to  her.  She  came  to  him 
and  exclaimed: 

"It's  a  great  pity  you  haven't  time  to  kiss  your 
mother  after  ten  days'  absence!  Now,  sir,  give 
an  account  of  yourself."  And,  without  any  more 
ado,  she  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  kissed 
him,  while  a  number  of  the  spectators  broadly 
smiled. 

Jack  returned  the  kiss,  and,  with  mock  sever 
ity,  said:  "Here's  where  I  exercise  my  authority." 
Taking  her  gently  by  the  arm,  he  led  her  over  to 
her  seat  and  continued:  "Now,  you  sit  there  until 
I  come  for  you.  The  old  Doc  and  I  have  some 
business  together.  Howdy,  Mr.  Flanagan — you 
and  'Mrs.  Bishop'  watch  this  kittenish  mother  of 
mine,  will  you?" 

"Well,  I  never!"  laughed  Mother  Anderson. 
"Under  guard!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CAPTAIN  ANDERSON'S  REPORT 

MOTIONING  the  bishop  to  follow  him,  Captain 
Anderson  led  the  way  into  an  ante-room. 

"Well,  what  luck?"  anxiously  inquired  the 
bishop. 

Jack  handed  him  a  slip  of  paper,  saying, 
"There's  the  note,  and" — pointing  to  the  corner 
-"there's  your  man." 

The  bishop  eagerly  scanned  the  paper,  and 
then  allowed  his  eyes  to  move  towards  the  corner. 
There,  huddled  up  in  a  chair,  he  observed  the 
pitiful  wreck  of  a  once  powerful  man,  now  old, 
feeble,  ragged,  and  unkempt.  Evidently  he 
labored  under  some  sort  of  stress  of  mind,  for  his 
lips  moved  as  if  in  speech. 

"Good  heavens !"  exclaimed  the  bishop,  "where 
did  you  get  him?" 

"At  the  county  poor  farm  at  Wheeling,  West 
Virginia.  They  were  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of 
him." 


CAPTAIN  ANDERSON'S  REPORT    243 

"But  the  proof,  Jack!  Where  is  the  proof? 
What  effect  will  that  miserable  fellow's  word 
have  against  a  man  like  Dudley?  Look  at  him!" 

"I've  been  looking  at  him  for  a  week  and  he 
has  not  been  a  pleasing  sight.  I  offered  him  new 
clothes,  but  he  refused — said  he  wanted  Jim  Dud 
ley  to  see  him  as  he  is,  and  I  don't  know  but  what 
it's  better  that  he  does.  He  will  make  more  of  an 
impression." 

"But  don't  you  see,  Jack,  we  must  have  some 
other  evidence — documentary  proof — that  will 
stand,  and  back  up  our  assertions.  You've  kept 
me  posted  on  every  move  Dudley  has  made  since 
you  came  here.  What  has  gone  on  in  his  office 
has  been  like  an  open  book — you  haven't  missed  a 
trick.  But  now  you  are  going  to  fail  us — at  the 
last  moment,  at  the  most  important  time  of  all. 
We  must  have  the  letters" 

"Well,  I'm  after  them,  Doc.  I  just  arrived  in 
town,  and  haven't  had  a  chance  to  see  my  man 
yet.  I'll  go  and  'phone  now.  Back  in  a  minute 
— say  a  word  to  Alberts."  And  with  that  the 
captain  was  gone. 

The  bishop  went  over  to  the  old  man  and  in 
troduced  himself.  "Mr.  Alberts,  I  am  Bishop 
Anderson — the  captain's  brother." 

Slowly  the  old  man  raised  his  weary  eyes  and 


244  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

gazed  at  the  man  before  him.  His  head  nodded 
as  he  looked  and  said : 

"Howdy,  your  reverence.  The  captain  told  me 
all  about  you.  Fine  man,  that  captain." 

"Yes,  he  is.  Now,  Mr.  Alberts,  are  you  certain 
the  man  you  knew  as  a  boy  back  in  Crescent  and 
James  Burchard  Dudley  are  one  and  the  same?" 

"Am  I  sure?"  the  old  man  cried  shrilly — "you 
bet  I  am  sure.  The  captain  showed  me  his  pic 
ture,  an'  I'd  know  that  face  in  the  darkness  of  a 
dungeon." 

"Steady,  man,  you  won't  have  to  go  into  a  dun 
geon  to  see  it.  You'll  see  it  here  to-day." 

"'Sail  right,  your  reverence;  I'll  be  on  hand, 
don't  you  forget  it."  The  old  man  was  almost 
beside  himself  with  anger,  as  his  clenched  fist  fell 
feebly  upon  his  knee. 

"There,  there,"  said  the  bishop  soothingly,  in 
an  effort  to  calm  him. 

Meanwhile,  Jack  Anderson  went  directly  to  a 
telephone  booth — was  in  there  a  half  minute,  and 
then  made  a  bee  line  for  a  taxicab. 

"Eleven- twenty,  Presidio — quick,"  he  ordered, 
as  he  slammed  the  door.  Arriving  there  the 
chauffeur  was  told  to  wait  and  hurriedly  the  cap 
tain  entered  a  well-known  confectionary  store, 
taking  a  seat  far  back  in  a  corner.  Only  a  few 


CAPTAIN  ANDERSON'S  REPORT    245 

minutes  elapsed  before  Mary  Sherman — Dud 
ley's  secretary — hurriedly  entered,  and,  spying 
the  captain,  approached  and  seated  herself  di 
rectly  opposite  him  at  the  same  table. 

"Hardly  a  minute  to  spare,"  she  whispered— 
"I  am  supposed  to  be  shopping.     Here" — slip 
ping  him  a  large,  plain  envelope,  "are  the  letters 
and  copies  you  wanted."    The  captain  took  them 
eagerly,  without  opening  the  envelope. 

"You  are  a  wonder,  dear!"  said  he,  pressing 
his  palm  to  her  tiny  gloved  hand. 

"No,  Jack — I'm  just  a  woman  fighting  for  my 
happiness." 

"And  mine,"  he  added  tenderly,  as  he  watched 
her  rise  and  go  her  way. 

Finishing  his  seltzer  quickly,  he  then,  with 
seeming  leisure,  paid  his  bill  and  left  the  shop. 
Once  in  the  waiting  cab,  he  shouted — "City  Hall" 
— and  away  sped  the  vehicle,  turning  the  corner 
on  two  wheels.  As  he  flew  along  his  thoughts  re 
verted  to  the  beautiful  woman  who  had,  but  a 
moment  before,  sat  before  him.  Knowing  her 
great  sorrow,  he  pitied  her  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart — and  loved  her  all  the  more.  At  City  Hall 
he  found  the  bishop,  with  his  mother,  and  wife, 
awaiting  him.  He  merely  nodded  toward  the  la 
dies,  then  calling  the  bishop  to  one  side,  handed 


246  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

him  an  envelope.  Quickly  breaking  the  seal,  the 
bishop  scanned  the  contents  eagerly. 

"Well,  Jack,  you  are  a  brick!  Where  did  you 
get  them?" 

"From  a  little  bird  in  the  park,"  grinned  the 
captain.  "They  make  the  case  so  strong,  even 
Dudley  can't  get  around  what  they  say." 

"Indeed  not — here's  where  we  beat  him  into 
pulp.  Now  you  go  out  and  stay  with  old  man 
Alberts  until  I  want  you.  Then  bring  him  in." 

"Fine  job,  I  get,"  laughed  the  captain.  Im 
mediately  the  bishop  summoned  into  counsel 
Flanagan,  Rabbi  Wise,  Dr.  Arnold  and  Father 
Lealty,  the  five  gentlemen  entering  into  an  earn 
est  conference  in  the  ante-room. 

"Bully  for  us!"  exclaimed  Flanagan  on  hear 
ing  the  good  news.  "We  may  not  win  this  fran 
chise  fight  to-day,  but  Bishop,  we'll  show  Jim 
Dudley  up  in  such  a  way  he  can't  put  anything 
over  on  us  hereafter." 

"He  won't  try  to,  Flanagan,"  responded  the 
bishop  emphatically.  "I  told  you  I  was  going  to 
beat  him  and  then  win  him  over  to  our  side.  Now 
I  know  I've  got  Kearney  won — or  will  have, 
rather,  when  he  knows  what  we  know — and  then, 
mark  my  words,  Dudley  will  come  over."  There 
was  no  uncertainty  in  the  bishop's  tone.  But  the 


CAPTAIN  ANDERSON'S  REPORT    247 

other  gentlemen  were  not  so  sure,  and,  shaking 
their  heads,  they  returned  to  the  council  chamber. 

Kearney  saw  them  go  and  come,  and  wondered 
what  was  in  the  wind.  However,  he  felt  sure 
that  their  case  was  hopeless.  One  poll  of  the 
council  members  and  "American  Gas"  would 
pass  on  to  Dudley. 

The  hands  of  the  large  clock  pointed  to  twelve 
noon  when  the  speaker  brought  his  gavel  down 
with  a  resounding  whack  on  the  mahogany  be 
fore  him.  President  Kearney  looked  very  sol 
emn  as  he  glanced  about  the  chamber.  "The 
council  will  be  in  order!"  said  he  gravely,  and 
took  his  seat.  The  curtain  was  up  and  the  drama 
about  to  begin. 

The  formalities  of  roll  call  were  quickly  over ; 
the  reading  of  the  minutes  of  the  last  meeting 
dispensed  with  by  unanimous  consent  and  Kear 
ney  was  now  ready  to  play  Dudley's  last  card — 
the  trump — an  ace,  as  he  thought.  When  the 
regular  order  was  called  for  he  asked  most  cas 
ually  : 

"Mr.  Clerk,  what  comes  first  on  the  regular 
order?" 

"An  ordinance  granting  a  fifty-year  franchise 
to  The  National  Gas  Company  of  Presidio.  The 


248  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

ordinance  has  gone  through  its  third  reading.  A 
vote  on  its  passage  is  now  in  order." 

"Gentlemen,  are  you  ready  for  the  vote?" 
asked  the  speaker.  An  awful  stillness  came  over 
the  assemblage  as  this  question  was  put.  Then 
there  came  loud  cries  of  "Vote,"  "Vote,"  "Vote," 
and,  strange  to  say,  no  voice  was  heard  in  protest. 
Kearney  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  opposition 
had  "given  up  the  ship,"  thought  he.  Neverthe 
less,  the  silence  was  puzzling.  He  did  not  know 
that  just  before  he  had  called  the  council  to  or 
der,  word  had  been  passed  along  by  the  bishop 
to  "sit  quiet"  and  "vote"  when  the  time  came. 
While  Kearney  cogitated,  Bishop  Anderson  ad 
vanced  to  the  rail,  and  said: 

"Mr.  Speaker,  before  this  question  is  put  to  a 
vote,  may  I  say  a  few  words?" 

Instantly  Dudley's  "dozen"  broke  into  action 
and  there  were  cries  of  "Aw,  cut  it  out"-  -"Reg 
ular  order" — "We've  heard  your  story  for 
months."  To  the  captain  outside  there  seemed  a 
possibility  of  "rough  house,"  and  his  eyes  danced 
in  anticipation. 

However,  Kearney,  with  the  spirit  of  fair  play 
uppermost  in  his  mind,  again  brought  down  the 
gavel  with  a  bang.  "Why  shouldn't  the  bishop 
speak?"  was  his  thought.  It  would  be  his  swan 


CAPTAIN  ANDERSON'S  REPORT    249 

song,  after  all — of  that  he  was  sure.  Therefore, 
it  was  good  politics  to  allow  the  bishop  to  "say  his 
little  say." 

"I  can  see  no  objection  to  hearing  what  the 
reverend  gentleman  desires  to  put  before  the 
council.  He  is  a  citizen,  and  all  citizens  have  a 
right  to  be  heard."  A  hum  of  protest  was  quieted 
with  another  bang  of  the  gavel. 

"But,  Mr.  Speaker,"  cried  Councilman  Allen, 
of  the  Eighth  Ward,  and  one  of  Dudley's  most 
ardent  supporters,  "I  do  object.  The  reverend 
gentleman  is  not  a  member  of  this  body,  and  has 
no  right  to  speak." 

"The  reverend  gentleman  has  the  right  of  free 
speech,  and  so  has  any  other  citizen,"  replied  the 
speaker.  "The  gentleman  from  the  Eighth  Ward 
is  out  of  order  and  will  please  sit  down."  Bang 
went  the  gavel  once  more. 

"But,  Mr.  Speaker,"  protested  Allen.  He 
got  no  further. 

"The  gentleman  will  take  his  seat,  and  this 
council  will  be  in  order  and  remain  so,  or  I'll  call 
the  sergeant-at-arms  and  instruct  him  to  do  his 
duty.  Do  I  make  myself  clear?"  Silence 
reigned  supreme  over  the  chamber.  Looking  to 
ward  the  bishop  he  continued: 

"Now,  Bishop  Anderson,  you  may  proceed. 


250  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Come  forward,  please,  to  the  secretary's  plat 
form,  so  that  all  may  hear  what  you  have  to  say." 
At  all  hazards  the  speaker  would  give  the  bishop 
his  last  chance  to  be  heard. 

Bishop  Anderson  opened  the  railing  gate  and 
walked  forward  with  dignified  ease.  Bowing  to 
Speaker  Kearney,  he  turned  and  faced  the  coun 
cil  and  the  audience.  A  breathless  silence  fol 
lowed,  but  the  suspense  was  soon  a  thing  of  the 
past. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE    COUNCIL   TAKES   A   VOTE 

BISHOP  ANDERSON  was  at  no  loss  for  words 
with  which  to  begin. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Speaker,  and  you,  gentlemen 
of  the  council,"  said  he  affably,  "for  the  privilege 
you  have  so  graciously  accorded  me,  I  shall 
not  long  trespass  upon  your  time."  The  bishop's 
voice  was  full,  round  and  resonant.  Upon  this 
occasion  it  seemed  exactly  the  same  as  if  he  were 
reading  the  glorious  Litany  from  his  own  pulpit 
and  his  strong  face  lighted  up  as  he  proceeded. 
No  one  could  deny  this  man  the  right  of  speech 
— not  even  Dudley's  iron-clad  dozen.  Kearney 
leaned  over  his  desk  with  his  ear  turned  toward 
the  speaker,  that  he  might  not  miss  a  single  word. 

"As  one  of  the  gentlemen  has  said,"  continued 
the  bishop,  "you  have  heard  from  me  pretty  reg 
ularly  of  late,  from  every  public  platform  in 
Presidio.  I  have,  time  and  again,  proclaimed 

251 


252  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

just  where  we  stand  on  this  franchise  question, 
— there  need  be  no  repetition  here.  I  do  de 
sire  to  say,  however,  that  I  know  I  am  represent 
ing  the  great  mass  of  people  in  what  I  shall  tell 
you  this  morning.  Many  of  these  people  have 
their  financial  existence  jeopardized  by  the  ordi 
nance  which  is  now  before  your  honorable  body. 
You  know,  each  one  of  you,  who  is  back  of  the 
fight  against  the  American.  You  know  that  one 
man  is  the  brain  and  brawn  of  the  National, 
and  that  he  has  furnished  the  sinews  with  which 
to  put  over  the  National  Company  franchise. 
You  know  his  objects — his  desires — and  his  meth 
ods  of  fighting.  Long  years  of  experience — some 
of  them  bitter  ones — have  familiarized  you  with 
these  things.  But  before  you  do  cast  the  vote 
which  will  mean  weal  or  woe  to  thousands  indi 
vidually,  and  honor  or  dishonor  to  Presidio  as  a 
community,  I  desire  to  relate  a  little  incident, 
which  has  but  lately  come  to  my  knowledge." 

The  bishop  paused  a  second,  wiping  his  lips 
with  his  handkerchief,  and  thus  gave  Council 
man  Allen  a  chance  to  cry  out : 

"This  isn't  a  church — we  don't  want  a  ser 
mon." 

Speaker  Kearney  raised  his  gavel,  but  before 
he  could  bring  it  down  the  bishop  said: 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  253 

"You  may  not  want  a  sermon,  but  some  of  you 
need  one." 

There  was  an  outburst  of  laughter,  and  the 
discomfited  Allen  lapsed  back  into  sullen  silence. 
The  bishop  then  continued : 

"Go  with  me,  if  you  please — back  thirty  years, 
to  a  little  West  Virginia  town,  where  peace  and 
plenty  reigned  supreme.  Three  miles  out  was  a 
farm  owned  by  one  Charles  Alberts,  aged  at  the 
time  about  forty  years.  Alberts  was  blessed  with 
plenty — so  far  as  the  needs  of  himself  and  fam 
ily  were  concerned.  A  farmer  born,  a  farmer  he 
would  remain  until  he  died.  Living  on  an  ad 
jacent  farm  was  a  young  man,  twenty  years  his 
junior.  This  boy,  too,  was  farmer  born,  but  his 
ambitions  turned  him  citywards.  He  wanted  to 
go  out  in  the  great,  big  world  and  fight — a  sad 
mistake  made  by  many  farmer  boys.  But  his 
family  was  poor — they  had  no  money  to  spare  for 
the  venture.  He  talked  over  his  hopes  and 
desires  with  his  neighbor,  Mr.  Alberts,  who 
had  no  sons  of  his  own — but  he  did  have  a  daugh 
ter,  for  whom  the  young  man  had  shown  a  spe 
cial  fondness.  Mr.  Alberts  thought  so  much  of 
this  bright  young  fellow  that,  but  for  the  deli 
cacy  of  the  matter,  he  would  have  proposed  a 
gift  of  a  goodly  sum  as  a  wedding  present. 


254    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done,  however,  until  the 
matter  could  be  properly  arranged — after  a  pro 
posal  in  marriage,  which  he  was  sure  would  come 
to  pass.  Alas  for  the  joys  of  the  day  that  never 
dawns!  Alack  for  the  sorrows  that  come  in  the 
black  of  night!" 

"Mr.  Speaker!"  yelled  Councilman  Allen, 
springing  to  his  feet.  "Enough  of  this  tale  of 
woe!  I  move  you,  sir " 

"Bishop  Anderson  has  the  floor,"  responded 
Kearney  with  a  cold  gleam  in  his  eye  and  a  mean 
ing  tone  in  his  voice,  whereat  the  irate  Allen  sat 
back  into  his  chair  and  gazed  sheepishly  about 
the  chamber. 

"One  bright  spring  morning,"  resumed  the 
bishop  in  a  clear-cut,  even  tone  of  voice,  "Farmer 
Alberts  awoke  to  find  himself  alone  in  his  little 
home  and  also  a  brief  note  pinned  to  the  chest 
where  he  had  kept  his  savings.  The  signature 
read:  'Your  loving  daughter,  Bertha/  Then 
came  the  confession. 

'  fJim  and  I  love  each  other  and  we  are  going 
away  to  get  married.  He  was  afraid  to  ask  you, 
for  you  knew  he  had  nothing.  But  I  love  him, 
and  believe  he  is  going  to  be  a  big  man  some  day. 
I  told  him  I  had  enough  to  pay  our  way  to  a  big 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE    255 

city  and  keep  us  a  few  months,  and  he  finally 
agreed.  I  took  the  money  from  your  chest,  a 
thousand  dollars  exactly.  Jim  doesn't  know  this, 
but  in  time  I'll  tell  him,  and  I  know  he  is 
the  kind  of  a  man  who  will  pay  it  back  with 
interest.  Don't  look  for  us.  We  are  both  tired 
of  farms.  We  belong  in  the  big  world  outside. 
Good-bye,  Pa — think  of  me  kindly.  Jim  will 
pay  you  back  when  I  tell  him  to  and  that'll  be 
when  he  has  got  the  money.  Forgive  me,  Pa — : 
and  accept  my  best  love.' 

"This  note  is  signed  'Bertha,'  "  continued  the 
bishop  soberly,  "and  for  two  years  no  further 
word  came.  Mr.  Alberts  longed  for  his  daugh 
ter,  and  prayed  for  her  return;  he  did  not  seek 
her,  as  he  felt  he  might  handicap  her  future 
thereby.  As  for  the  money  she  took  from  his 
little  hoard  he  cared  nothing,  and  if  it  was  an 
act  that  required  forgiveness  it  long  since  had 
been  forgiven."  The  bishop  took  time  to  look 
into  the  faces  of  the  men  before  continuing.  He 
found  that  his  words  were  taking  hold,  as  he 
hastened  on  before  Councilman  Allen  took  it 
upon  himself  to  make  further  protest. 

"The  rest  is  soon  told,"  said  he  impressively. 
"One  day  a  letter  came  postmarked  Cincinnati. 


256  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

It  was  from  a  firm  of  attorneys — I  have  it  here 
as  testimony  of  the  truth  I  am  telling  you.  It 
reads: 


c  'Mr.  Jonathan  Alberts, 

'Wheeling,  West  Virginia. 
"'Dear  Sir: 

'  'Our  client,  Mr.  J.  B.  Dudley,  desires  us  to 
inform  you  that  his  wife,  your  daughter  Ber 
tha,  died  on  the  night  of  July  8th  and  was 
buried  in  a  local  cemetery.  A  tombstone  has 
been  ordered  to  mark  the  location  and  should  you 
at  any  time  desire  to  visit  the  grave  kindly  call 
at  this  office  for  full  information.  Our  client 
asks  us  to  enclose  the  sealed  envelope  you  will 
find  herein  addressed  to  yourself.' ' 

At  this  point  the  bishop  proceeded  to  unfold 
the  enclosure,  and  as  he  did  so  absolute  quiet 
prevailed  in  the  council  chamber. 

"This  second  note,"  said  he,  in  a  much  modified 
tone,  "is  from  Bertha.  It  was  evidently  written 
only  a  few  hours  before  her  death.  It  reads : 

"  'Dear,  dear  Father: 

'  'I  am  dying — the  end  is  near.  My  baby  died 
yesterday  a  few  minutes  after  its  birth.  Forgive 
me,  Father,  for  the  worry  I  have  given  you.  Jim 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  257 

has  been  good  to  me  and  last  night,  for  the  first 
time,  I  told  him  about  my  taking  your  money. 
I  told  him  I  wrote  you  that  he  would  repay  every 
cent  in  time,  and  Jim  says  he  will  do  it,  right 
away.  He  is  doing  well  here,  but  he  says  the 
West  is  calling  him.  Good-bye,  good-bye,  good 
bye  forever.  "  'BERTHA.'  ' 

"Mr?  Speaker,"  shouted  Allen,  springing  to  his 
feet.  "I  rise  to  a  point  of  order.  What's  all  this 
rigmarole  got  to " 

"The  gentleman  from  the  Eighth  Ward  will 
please  sit  down.  Enough  has  been  said  to  make 
desirable  the  relating  of  all  Bishop  Anderson  has 
to  say.  Time  enough  then  to  act  in  accordance 
with  the  will  of  this  body."  Again  the  gavel  de 
scended  amid  the  clapping  and  cheering  of  citi 
zens  seated  in  the  rear  and  in  the  gallery.  Mean 
while,  Kearney  beckoned  a  Banner  reporter  to 
his  side  and  whispered : 

'  'Phone  Dudley  he'd  better  get  over  here 
quick." 

The  bishop  resumed : 

"This  matter  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the 
franchise  question,  my  friends — more,  perhaps, 
than  you  think.  Let  us  pass  over  the  twenty- 
eight  years  since  the  death  of  Bertha.  Alberts 


258  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

grew  old  and  helpless;  sickness  came;  his  second 
daughter  died,  and  a  little  later  his  faithful  wife 
joined  the  great,  silent  majority.  Her  last  illness 
was  very  expensive  and  there  had  been  a  succes 
sion  of  bad  crops.  The  Alberts  farm  was  mort 
gaged.  Everything  seemed  to  go  against  this 
honest  son  of  toil.  The  mortgage  was  coming  due 
and  Alberts  was  at  his  wits'  end.  Finally  he  re 
membered  the  thousand  dollars  that  his  eldest 
daughter  had  taken  and  turned  over  to  her  hus 
band  years  before.  Alberts  never  had  expected 
to  demand  payment,  but  now,  in  his  hour  of  dire 
need,  surely  the  boy  whom  his  money  had  be 
friended  and  put  in  the  way  of  fortune,  would 
come  to  his  assistance.  Anyway,  he  still  had  the 
note  from  his  dying  daughter — mute  evidence  of 
the  obligation,  and  since  then  the  man  who  had 
benefitted  by  the  money  had  grown  very  rich.  In 
his  crude,  country  way  Alberts  wrote  and  told  of 
his  trouble,  reminding  the  rich  man  of  his  obliga 
tion,  and  giving  him  the  credit  of  having  over 
looked  it.  Would  he  please  pay  now?  Anx 
iously  this  poverty-stricken  old  man  waited  and 
watched  and  hoped — and  prayed.  What  answer 
did  he  receive?  Absolute  silence!  Then,  taking 
his  daughter's  deathbed  note  from  an  old,  cow 
hide  trunk,  he  gave  it  unto  a  firm  of  lawyers. 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  259 

Not  until  then  did  the  rich  man  answer  and  then 
only  to  say  that  the  facts  as  stated  were  in  the 
main  true — that  the  account  was  over  twenty 
years  old  and  payment  had  never  been  demanded, 
as  required  by  law.  Therefore,,  it  was  now  out 
lawed,  and  never  would  be  paid.  Gentlemen,  can 
you  picture  the  misery  of  Alberts  when  his  farm 
was  sold  under  the  mortgage?  Imagine  him  as 
he  went  his  lonely  way,  with  faltering  steps,  to 
the  county  poor-farm — an  object  of  charity." 

There  was  almost  the  stillness  of  death  over  the 
council  chamber,  as  the  bishop,  in  simple  words, 
told  this  powerful  story.  But  the  irrepressible 
Allen  could  not  get  through  his  head  just  what 
the  bishop  was  driving  at.  He  cried : 

"But,  Mr.  Speaker,  once  more  I  ask  what  this 
touchingly  pitiful  story  has  got  to  do  with  the 
franchise?  I  move  a  vote."  Several  of  the  rock- 
ribbed  dozen  echoed  his  wish,  but  the  bishop  was 
not  quite  through. 

"Wait!  Just  a  moment,  please,"  the  door  at 
the  rear  of  the  council  chamber  opened,  and  in 
came  Captain  Anderson,  leading  his  charge — an 
aged  man  with  stumbling  steps,  his  gnarled  hands 
grasping  an  old  hickory  cane,  himself  upheld  on 
one  side  by  the  strong  grip  of  Jack  Anderson. 
This  woe-begone  wreck  of  what  had  once  been  a 


26o    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

happy,  prosperous  man  now  shambled  forward 
to  the  railing,  and  stood  there,  palsied  from  his 
effort. 

"Gentlemen,"  cried  the  bishop,  "there  stands 
Bertha  Alberts'  father."  Instantly,  every  eye 
was  turned  on  the  man.  The  audience  gasped; 
men  started  forward  as  if  to  assist  the  old  man 
who  seemed  so  helpless.  Even  the  councilmen 
were  visibly  affected.  Pausing  a  moment  to  al 
low  the  terrible  picture  to  sink  in,  the  bishop  con 
tinued  : 

"The  other  man,  gentlemen,  the  boy  who, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  borrowed  one  thou 
sand  dollars  from  Alberts,  and  who  has  now 
grown  rich  and  powerful,  the  man  who  refused 
to  repay  the  one  thousand  dollars  on  account  of 
the  shallow  fiction  of  law  which  protected  him, 
that  man  is  James  Burchard  Dudley,  the  power 
behind  the  National  Gas  Company — nay,  he  is 
the  National  Company,  and  expects  to  swallow 
the  American,  hide,  tail  and  tallow." 

Allen  was  instantly  on  his  feet.  As  "Dudley's 
man,"  it  was  his  duty  to  defend  his  chief  from  the 
floor  of  the  council  on  all  occasions.  It  was  plain 
that  even  he  was  becoming  fearful  of  the  effect 
of  the  bishop's  story.  With  biting  sarcasm,  he 
sneered : 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  261 

"Mr.  Speaker,  are  we  expected  to  believe 
this  cock-and-bull  story?  Where  is  the  proof? 
Send  for  Honorable  James  Burchard  Dudley 
and  let  him  confront  this  bishop,"  whereat 
Speaker  Kearney  quietly  replied:  "I  have  sent 
for  him.  I  expect  him  momentarily." 

"The  dozen"  looked  to  Kearney  for  their  or 
ders.  A  glance  of  the  eye  would  tell  them  what 
to  do,  but  he  avoided  their  gaze. 

"I  am  glad  you  did  send  for  Mr.  Dudley,  Mr. 
Speaker.  I  want  to  confront  him,"  remarked  the 
bishop  quietly.  "You  want  proofs?  Well,  you 
shall  have  them.  There  is  Alberts,  here  is  the  let 
ter  from  the  Cincinnati  lawyers,  his  dying  daugh 
ter's  last  words  telling  of  Dudley's  promise  to 
pay — and  here,"  the  bishop's  voice  arose  to  a  high 
pitch — "here  is  Alberts'  pitiful  letter  and  the 
one  the  lawyers  wrote — Dudley's  answer!" 
Turning  to  the  speaker's  desk,  he  tossed  the 
papers  in  front  of  Kearney. 

"You  know  that  signature,  Mr.  Kearney?" 

Fascinated,  Kearney  gazed  at  the  documents. 
He  saw — he  knew. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  where  did  you  get  them?" 

The  bishop  smiled  and  replied :  "I  merely  used 
Dudley's  own  methods,  Mr.  Kearney.  There 
are  the  indisputable  proofs.  Now,  gentlemen, 


262  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

just  a  few  more  words  and  I  am  done.  Dudley's 
greed  and  selfish  spirit  condemned  this  man  Al 
berts  to  the  poor-house.  Will  you  allow  that  same 
grasping  greed  to  make  paupers  of  numberless 
citizens  of  Presidio — men,  women  and  children — 
of  your  own  fair  city?  You  will  vote  as  your  con 
science  dictates,  but  remember,  some  day  you  will 
stand  before  your  God  and  be  required  to  make 
answer  to  the  terrible  question — 'What  hast  thou 
done  with  thy  talents?'  I  thank  you,  gentlemen, 
for  your  indulgence."  The  bishop's  case  was  in. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  now  but  await  events,  so 
he  took  the  empty  seat  between  his  mother  and 
his  wife.  Meanwhile,  Jack  Anderson  assisted  the 
aged  Mr.  Alberts  to  a  seat  near  the  door. 
Mother  Anderson  patted  the  bishop's  hand  af 
fectionately;  Rabbi  Wise,  Dr.  Arnold,  and 
Father  Leahy  quietly  congratulated  him;  but 
Flanagan  leaned  over  and  in  a  loud  voice  said: 

"Fine,  Bishop!  Wonderful!  But  do  you 
think  it  will  change  any  of  them?" 

"No,  Flanagan,  I  don't — not  any  of  the  dozen ! 
But  that  man  in  the  speaker's  chair — Kearney — 
he's  the  one  I  am  counting  on.  In  a  few  moments 
we  shall  know." 

The  vote  was  loudly  called  for  by  the  Dudley- 
ites;  Speaker  Kearney  looked  up  hesitatingly. 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  263 

"If  there  are  no  further  remarks  the  clerk  will 
call  the  roll.  The  question  is:  'Shall  the  ordi 
nance  pass?'  Members  will  vote  yes  or  no,"  after 
which  he  placed  his  elbows  on  the  desk,  and,  rest 
ing  his  head  in  his  hands,  listened  while  the  sing 
song  voice  of  the  clerk  called  forth  the  names. 
When  Caton's  name  was  called,  that  member 

arose  in  his  place  and  said,  "Mr.  Speaker,  I " 

Right  here  he  heard  a  peculiar  cough,  and,  turn 
ing  around,  he  saw  Raymond  and  Captain  An 
derson  half  standing. 

"Mr.  Speaker,  I  vote — no." 

A  sigh  of  relief  went  up  from  Flanagan.  Ca- 
ton  had  stood  "hitched." 

Finally  the  roll  call  was  complete.  Flanagan 
had  been  keeping  tab,  and,  handing  it  to  the 
bishop,  said: 

"There  you  are,  Bishop — twelve — twelve." 

"Wait,"  replied  the  bishop,  not  looking  at  the 
paper.  His  eyes  were  upon  the  bowed  head  of 
the  speaker. 

"Twelve  for,  and  twelve  against,  Mr.  Speaker 
— a  tie  vote,"  whispered  the  clerk,  and  then  all 
eyes  were  turned  on  Kearney.  His  was  to  be 
the  deciding  voice.  There  was  very  little  hope 
in  the  breasts  of  many  in  that  audience.  Kear 
ney  had  been  known  to  them  for  years,  and  every 


264  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

time  he  voted  he  had  done  Dudley's  bidding.  He 
would  do  it  now.  There  were  many  dubious 
hearts  beating  with  sickening  dread,  as  Patrick  J. 
Kearney  raised  his  eyes  and  gazed  about  him. 
He  was  face  to  face  with  the  crisis  of  his  life,  and 
how  would  he  meet  it?  Wherever  he  looked  he 
could  feel  Bishop  Anderson's  gaze  glued  upon 
him.  Slowly  the  speaker  arose  and  in  a  calm, 
even  voice,  though  tempered  with  emotion,  he 
said: 

"Gentlemen,  under  the  charter  of  the  city  of 
Presidio,  in  case  of  a  tie  vote  upon  any  question, 
the  speaker  casts  the  deciding  vote.  Only  upon 
very  rare  occasions  has  this  been  necessary.  But 
to-day  it  is."  .  .  .  Here  he  paused,  as  if  to  col 
lect  himself,  then  continued:  "Before  casting 
my  vote,  however,  I  desire  to  make  a  few  remarks 
and  I  want  them  to  be  taken  in  shorthand  and 
appear  in  the  record."  Another  slight  pause. 

"Gentlemen,  for  many  years  you  have  known 
me  as  Jim  Dudley's  right-hand  man,  and  my  loy 
alty  to  him  never  has  been  questioned.  But  there 
is  something  we  must  exact  of  men  upon  whom 
we  lavish  our  loyalties — something  which  must 
appeal  to  our  finer  natures — gratitude !  And  the 
lack  of  it  in  any  one's  makeup  must  cause  a  real 
man's  blood  to  boil  with  indignation — especially 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  265 

that  of  an  Irishman.  Bishop  Anderson  has  pro 
duced  proof  which  cannot  be  doubted,  and,  as  I 
gaze  at  Alberts,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  do  a 
thing  which  will  create  many  paupers  of  his  kind 
here  in  Presidio.  In  the  last  analysis  I  cannot 
allow  myself  to  further  serve  the  thoroughly  sel 
fish  purposes  of  an  already  too  rich  man.  Right 
here  I  throw  off  Dudley's  collar.  Gentlemen, 
I  vote  no!"  Kearney  was  through,  and  the  last 
bang  of  his  gavel  broke  off  its  handle. 

For  a  moment  the  audience  sat  stunned,  and 
then  the  realization  of  what  Kearney  had  done 
burst  upon  them.  Their  savings  of  a  lifetime  had 
been  saved!  Hurrah  everybody!  Then  broke 
forth  a  delirious  storm  of  joyful  yells — strong 
men  trembled  with  excitement  and  women  cried 
with  the  maddened  intoxication  of  victory.  Flan 
agan  couldn't  speak — so  great  was  his  emotion. 

The  gavelless  speaker  secured  order.  Then 
came  a  queer  scene  inside  the  railing.  The  leader 
of  the  gang  had  quit,  and  the  gang  was  ready  to 
•iop  with  him.  It  is  always  so  in  such  cases — 
the  king  was  dead — long  live  the  king — the 
people! 

There  was  one  continuous  yell  of  triumph  as 
some  of  the  councilmen  jumped  to  their  feet  and 
cried:  "Mr.  Speaker,  I  desire  to  change  my  vote 


266    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

to  'No.' '  They  were  preparing  for  the  next 
campaign! — and  they  would  lose  no  time.  The 
rout  was  complete.  When  order  was  restored, 
the  excited  clerk  announced: 

"Six  votes  for  the  ordinance,  nineteen  against." 
Only  Allen  and  five  of  the  original  dozen  stood 
by  their  sinking  ship.  Survive  or  perish  they 
would  stick  to  Dudley.  But  there  was  gall  and 
wormwood  yet  to  swallow.  The  victory  needs 
must  be  scotched  against  further  attack.  A  new 
ordinance  granting  the  American  a  franchise 
renewal  for  a  period  of  fifty  years  was  introduced 
and  rushed  through  on  a  viva  voce  vote.  Then, 
with  a  wild  whoop,  the  council  adjourned,  and, 
by  way  of  approval,  the  bishop  was  seized  and 
slapped  on  the  back  until  the  women  folk  came  to 
his  rescue.  He  was,  indeed,  the  people's  leader — 
he  had  served  them!  The  exuberance  of  their 
joy  knew  no  bounds.  There  were  two  hundred 
and  fifty  in  the  audience  and  twice  as  many  out 
side  who  became  quickly  apprised  of  the  news. 
The  City  Hall  rang  with  cheers,  shouts,  and  songs 
of  praise. 

Mother  Anderson  was  beside  herself  with  joy. 
She  became  separated  from  her  son,  and,  moving 
hither  and  thither,  she  finally  succeeded  in  arriv 
ing  at  his  side. 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE  267 

"Here,  you  crazy  men,"  she  cried,  "get  out  of 
the  way — that's  my  son,  please  don't  hug  him 
to  death;"  then,  throwing  her  arms  around  his 
neck  she  joyously  exclaimed:  "My  boy,  my  boy — 
I  knew  you'd  do  it — I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !" 

"Jack  did  the  work,  Mother — good  old  Jack. 
Where  is  he?"  asked  the  bishop  anxiously.  The 
captain  was  outside  busy  with  Raymond  in  try 
ing  to  protect  Alberts  from  the  mob  who  wanted 
to  do  something  for  him. 

Slowly  the  crowd  was  filing  out  when  Kear 
ney  came  down  from  his  desk  and  advanced  to  the 
rail.  The  bishop  saw  him  coming,  and,  with  out 
stretched  hands,  cried : 

"Kearney,  Kearney,  I  thank  you!  Your  con 
science  wasn't  dead,  was  it?" 

"I  dunno  what  you'd  call  it,  Bishop,  but  while 

you  were  speaking,  something  down  under  my 

fourth  rib  on  the  left  side  began  pounding,  and 

when  you  were  through  it  was  hitting  pretty  hard 

-that's  all." 

Just  then  there  was  a  commotion  in  the  hall, 
and  Dudley  burst  into  the  room  like  a  cyclone 
eyes  blazing.  He  had  heard  the  news  outside,  but 
couldn't  believe  it. 

"What's  all  this  fuss  about,  Kearney?  You 
sent  for  me?" 


268  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Kearney  eyed  him  from  head  to  foot.  There 
was  contempt  in  his  glance. 

"Yes,  I  did.  Your  ordinance  has  been  de 
feated,  and  for  the  first  time  you've  been  licked. 
You  set  a  trap — and  I  shoved  you  in  it.  That's 
all,  Dudley." 

"You  mean " 

"I  mean  I  voted  against  you — and  I'm  glad 
of  it!" 

Dudley  stood  dumbfounded.  He  wouldn't 
have  been  surprised  to  learn  that  some  one  else 
had  flopped — but  Kearney!  Kearney! — he 
couldn't  realize  it!  When  he  did,  he  glared  for 
a  moment,  and  then,  fairly  frothing  at  the  mouth 
with  rage,  snarled  out: 

"Y-o-u  i-n-f-e-r-n-a-l  traitor — you!" 

Bishop  Anderson  had  advanced  with  out 
stretched  hand,  but  Dudley  disdained  it.  Turn 
ing  on  his  heel,  he  started  for  the  door.  Captain 
Anderson  interrupted  him. 

"Just  one  moment,  please,  Mr.  Dudley!  I 
want  you  to  greet  an  old  friend  of  yours — Mr. 
Charles  Alberts,  of  Wheeling,  West  Virginia." 

Dudley  paused,  and,  with  wide,  staring  eyes, 
gazed  at  the  wretched  man.  He  saw — he  recog 
nized  him  and  cried : 

"Alberts!" 


THE  COUNCIL  TAKES  A  VOTE    269 

With  that  he  went  out  into  the  noonday  sun 
light. 

He  was  a  beaten  man — and  he  knew  it. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   REVOLT   OF   A   SECRETARY 

WITHIN  thirty  minutes  half  of  the  city  had 
heard  the  news.  From  mouth  to  mouth  it  flew 
with  the  amazing  rapidity  of  a  prairie  fire.  Men 
discussed  it  at  luncheon;  in  their  offices,  and  at 
their  clubs. 

Dudley  was  beaten ! 

Extras  of  The  Tribune  and  The  Scimitar  ap 
peared  on  the  streets ;  copies  were  eagerly  bought 
up,  and  the  newsboys  reaped  a  harvest.  A  great 
battle  had  been  fought  for  the  rights  of  the  com 
moner.  The  people  had  won,  and  this  fight  was 
led  by  a  bishop — a  preacher — a  churchman! 

The  Tribune  then  and  there  nominated  Bishop 
Anderson  to  be  next  mayor.  The  Scimitar  went 
its  contemporary  one  better  and  gave  him  the  title 
of  "governor,"  and  even  hinted  in  time  that  it 

might  be  president;  all  of  which  was  simply  the 

270 


THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  271 

froth  of  enthusiasm,  because  the  bishop  was  a 
churchman  and  churchman  he  would  remain  to 
the  end  of  his  days. 

There  was  plenty  of  opportunity  for  fighting 
men  in  the  church.  The  bishop  realized  a  great 
victory  had  been  won,  and  he  knew  the  part  he 
had  played  in  it.  He  also  knew  that  but  for  the 
splendid  assistance  of  his  brilliant,  militant 
brother,  Captain  Anderson,  the  fight  would  have 
been  hopelessly  lost.  Jack  Anderson  had  un 
earthed  Caton's  past  and  caused  him  to  vote 
against  the  ordinance.  So,  too,  had  the  captain 
dug  up  the  Alberts'  case,  and  run  it  down  to  a 
successful  conclusion.  He  had  prepared  the  am 
munition  and  the  bishop  had  fired  the  charge,  and 
Captain  Anderson  had  used  up  his  own  time  in 
the  fight  and  spent  money  freely  simply  because 
— as  the  bishop  now  remembered — "he  wanted 
a  certain  young  woman  to  have  a  chance  to  de 
fend  herself."  Well,  the  boy  should  have  his 
wish.  The  bishop  promised  himself  that,  and 
he  would  keep  his  word,  if  Jack  still  held  out 
for  it. 

In  his  heart  Bishop  Anderson  hoped  the  ex 
citing  events  of  the  past  summer  had  effaced  the 
girl  from  his  brother's  mind.  She  had  never  been 
mentioned ;  in  fact,  he  didn't  even  know  her  name, 


272  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

but  that  night  after  dinner  he  would  hear  Jack's 
story.  He  was  to  hear  it  sooner  than  that,  as 
the  fates  decided. 

Kearney  requested  the  bishop  to  allow  him  to 
care  for  Alberts  until  some  disposition  could  be 
made  of  his  case.  Certain  it  was  Alberts  never 
would  be  allowed  to  return  to  the  poor-farm. 
Gladly  did  the  bishop  accede  to  the  Irishman's 
request,  and  then  the  bishop,  his  wife,  Jack  and 
the  little  mother  went  to  luncheon  in  a  fashion 
able  cafe.  Eating  was  difficult,  because  every  one 
wanted  a  word  with  the  fighting  bishop.  Mother 
Anderson  and  the  bishop's  wife  were  also  the  re 
cipients  of  many  congratulations,  but  Captain 
Anderson  kept  in  the  background  as  much  as 
possible — such  was  his  modesty.  Then,  too,  he 
was  thinking  of  a  certain  girl  that  he  was  to  de 
fend  before  the  bishop.  "Forget  her!"  There 
never  had  been  a  moment  all  through  the  fight 
that  he  hadn't  thought  of  her.  He  was  fighting 
for  her  alone,  and  now  his  chance  had  come.  The 
bishop  must  be  convinced. 

After  luncheon  Helen  Anderson  said  she  had 
some  shopping  to  do,  and  the  little  mother  volun 
teered  to  join  her,  which  left  the  brothers  alone 
together. 

"Jack,"  said  the  bishop  when  the  ladies  had 


THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  273 

departed,  "I'm  going  over  to  Dudley's  office. 
Want  to  go  along?" 

"Dudley's  office!    For  the  love  of  Pete !    Why, 

D»> 
oc 

"Well,  I  said  we'd  beat  him — we  have!  I 
also  said  I'd  win  him  over,  and  I'm  going  to  make 
the  attempt  to-day." 

A  queer  look  came  into  Captain  Anderson's 
face.  A  smile  played  around  his  lips.  In  amaze 
ment  he  gazed  at  his  brother  for  a  long  moment 
before  replying. 

"No,  Doc,  I  won't  go  over  there  now,  but  I 
may  run  in  while  you  are  there.  You  know  my 
time  is  almost  up  and  I  shall  soon  have  to  return 
to  work  in  Chicago.  I  have  a  little  private  busi 
ness  to  attend  to  first." 

There  was  a  subtle  something  in  the  captain's 
manner,  which  made  the  bishop  wonder.  Per 
haps  he  caught  the  quizzical  smile  playing  around 
the  corner  of  his  brother's  lips,  but  he  gave  it  up, 
and  the  two  separated. 

When  Dudley  left  the  council  chamber  he  was 
in  a  perfect  blaze  of  wrath — likewise  dazed.  He 
couldn't  realize  he  had  been  defeated.  Why, 
only  last  night — nay,  this  morning — he  and 
Kearney  had  agreed  that  the  situation  was  a 


274  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

cinch.  He  couldn't  lose.  But  he  had  lost — and 
Kearney! — were  his  wits  deserting  him?  No, 
Kearney  had  told  him  to  his  own  face  that  he  had 
voted  against  him.  Then,  as  he  left  the  council 
chamber,  that  ex-army  captain  had  confronted 
him  with  Alberts.  He  remembered  it  all  now— 
he  was  beaten!  beaten!  beaten! 

"Drive  me  any  place  out  of  the  city  for  an 
hour,"  he  cried  to  his  waiting  chauffeur,  as  he 
bounced  into  his  big  car. 

"Where?"  asked  the  man. 

"I  don't  care  where;  only  drive  fast!" 

The  chauffeur  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  the 
>ong,  white,  ribbon-like  strip  of  road  slipped 
under  the  smooth-running  car  as  it  flew  along. 
In  the  back  seat  Dudley  tried  to  collect  himself 
and  figure  on  his  next  move.  The  franchise,  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  was  irretrievably  lost. 
That  he  knew,  and  the  two  men  who  had  beaten 
him,  the  bishop  and  Kearney,  they  were  impreg 
nable — that  he  also  knew.  He  couldn't  attack 
them.  Like  a  flash  there  came  into  his  mind  the 
question  of  how  the  Alberts'  story  had  "leaked." 
Who  had  furnished  the  data  for  that?  Who  had 
tricked  him?  That,  he  must  find  out.  While  the 
bishop  could  not  be  attacked  directly,  he  could 
be  indirectly — through  his  brother.  Dudley's 


THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  275 

lips  closed  into  a  grim,  straight  line — he  clenched 
his  fat  hands  convulsively  and  snapped  out  to 
the  chauffeur : 

"Back  to  the  office!"  His  mind  was  made  up. 
He  would  strike  swift,  and  sure. 

Meanwhile,  at  work  at  her  desk,  Mary  Sher 
man,  secretary  to  "Big  Chief"  Dudley,  was 
doing  some  very  hard  thinking  on  her  own  ac 
count.  The  cries  of  the  newsboys  apprised  her 
of  the  fact  that  Dudley  had  been  defeated,  and 
Kearney  had  come  in  and  told  her  of  the  council 
meeting.  The  young  woman  was  much  inter 
ested  ;  indeed,  she  missed  not  a  word  of  Kearney's 
brief  recital,  but  her  heart  was  sore  afraid,  for 
she  knew  Dudley  would  suspect  every  one  in  the 
office  of  treachery.  What  the  result  would  be  she 
hardly  dared  to  think,  but  the  situation  must  be 
met  and  she  decided  to  meet  it  bravely.  She  ex 
pressed  surprise  when  Kearney  informed  her  his 
vote  had  been  the  final  blow  to  Dudley's  cause. 

"I  beat  him,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  glad  of  it. 
For  the  first  time  in  years,  Miss  Sherman,  my 
conscience  is  clear.  And  now  I  am  going  out  in 
the  plant,  pick  up  a  few  of  my  traps  and  get 
ready  to  leave." 

"You  are  going  to  quit  Mr.  Dudley's  service?" 

"Quit!  humph!    There  won't  be  any  chance  of 


276    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

quitting.  Technically,  I'm  as  good  as  fired  al 
ready,  and  right  now  Jim  Dudley  is  planning 
how  he  can  pulverize  me.  But  I  am  coming  back 
in  here  before  I  go  and  have  it  out  with  him." 

Kearney  started  to  leave  the  room,  but  as  he 
reached  the  door  he  turned  and  said: 

"Miss  Sherman,  I  wonder  where  Captain  An 
derson  got  all  his  information?"  He  looked  at 
the  girl  narrowly  and  smiled,  as  he  saw  his  shot 
had  struck  home.  Mary  Sherman  was  confused, 
her  color  came  and  went  from  red  to  white. 

"Why,  Mr.  Kearney,  I  am" — she  stammered; 
"I  don't- 

But  Kearney  didn't  allow  her  to  finish. 

"Sure,  you  don't.  I  was  just  wondering,"  and, 
shaking  his  head,  he  smilingly  went  his  way. 

A  second  later,  Dennis,  the  ubiquitous  office 
boy,  came  in.  He,  too,  was  all  excitement,  and, 
with  dancing  eyes,  he  cried : 

"Miss  Sherman,  where  is  the  chief?" 

"You  mean  Mr.  Dudley?  I  don't  know.  I'm 
expecting  him  back  every  minute.  Why?" 

"Collins,  of  the  city  room,  wants  to  know. 
Things  are  in  an  awful  shape  out  there.  JSTo  one 
seems  to  know  what  to  do.  All  they  can  do  is  to 
sit  and  mutter,  'The  Big  Chief's  licked.'  " 


THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  277 

"Is  The  Banner  going  to  get  out  an  extra  this 
afternoon,  Dennis?" 

"Extra,  nothin'.  The  Banner  will  do  well  to 
get  out  its  regular  edition  to-morrow  morning — 
let  alone  any  extras.  They  are  all  noddle-pated 
out  there,  I  tell  you." 

Just  at  this  moment  Dudley  burst  into  the  of 
fice.  Dennis  tried  to  get  out  of  his  way,  but 
failed,  and  his  employer's  rush  all  but  knocked 
him  over.  The  boy  was  completely  at  a  loss  for 
words,  and  all  he  could  say  was  "Gee!"  as  he 
scampered  out  of  the  room. 

Dudley  tossed  his  cap  and  coat  on  a  chair  near 
the  hat  rack,  and  then,  with  hands  behind  him, 
paced  up  and  down  the  office,  muttering  between 
his  clenched  teeth: 

"Beaten,  by  the  great  horn  spoon  I'm  beaten! 
and  by  a  preacher,  too!" 

His  secretary  stood  by  the  window  waiting 
for  Dudley  to  subside.  He  apparently  did  not 
see  her,  but  when  she  softly  called  out,  "Mr.  Dud 
ley,"  he  stopped  and  looked  at  her  with  lowering 
eyes.  Just  then  came  the  cries  of  newsboys  out 
side:  "Extra,  Tribune!  All  about  Dudley's  de 
feat."  Even  the  little  news  merchants  had  an 
exultant  ring  in  their  voices,  as  they  proclaimed 
the  downfall  of  "the  big  boss." 


278  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Close  those  windows,"  he  snarled,  going  to  his 
desk.  The  secretary  did  as  she  was  told  and 
waited.  Dudley  seemed  lost  in  thought,  and  fi 
nally  the  girl  asked : 

"Do  you  need  me  now,  Mr.  Dudley?" 

Again  that  narrow  look. 

"Yes,  sit  down!" 

It  was  not  a  request,  but  a  peremptory  com 
mand. 

Tremblingly  the  girl  obeyed,  and  waited  for 
the  blow,  which  she  was  sure  was  to  follow. 

For  a  moment  not  a  word  was  spoken — Dud 
ley  looking — the  girl  waiting.  There  was  an  un 
usual  hardness  in  his  voice,  as  he  finally  said : 

"Miss  Sherman,  do  you  know  I  have  lost  my 
first  fight?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  the  newsboys  crying  it!" 

Again  a  pause  as  if  carefully  weighing  the 
words  she  knew  he  was  about  to  fire  at  her. 
Slowly  he  said : 

"My  defeat  was  caused  by  some  one  in  my 
confidence.  I  have  been  betrayed.  Some  one  in 
this  office  has  been  keeping  Bishop  Anderson  in 
formed,  and  to-day  or  some  day,  that  some  one 
has  taken  papers  out  of  my  private  files  and 
given  them  to  my  enemies.  And  now  I  must 
know  who  that  some  one  is." 


THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  279 

Mary  Sherman  felt  faint.  The  blow  was  com- 
tng — she  could  feel  it — so,  closing  her  eyes,  she 
waited  for  it  to  fall.  Never  for  one  second  did 
the  editor  take  his  eyes  off  of  the  girl.  He  leaned 
across  his  desk,  pointed  a  threatening  finger,  and 
said: 

"Yes,  I  know.  Only  three  people  have  access 
to  this  desk  and  by  a  process  of  elimination  it  was 
easy  to  see  it  was  not  I" — a  pause,  a  deadly  one 
to  the  girl — "it  was  not  you — it  was  Kearney!— 
Kearney  the  traitor!" — and  the  enraged  editor 
brought  his  fist  down  with  a  bang. 

Mary  Sherman  opened  her  eyes  in  amazement. 
The  expected  blow  had  not  fallen  and  a  grateful 
sigh  went  up  from  her  heart.  She  was  too  be 
wildered  to  make  any  reply  save  to  exclaim: 

"Mr.  Kearney!" 

"Yes,  Kearney,"  shot  back  the  irate  editor. 
"He  has  as  good  as  confessed  it.  Told  me  to  my 
face  in  the  council  room  that  the  franchise  had 
been  defeated  and  that  he  did  it.  There's  guilt 
for  you!" 

There  was  almost  a  ring  of  triumph  in  Dud 
ley's  voice,  as  he  gave  utterance  to  his  charge. 
It  was  Kearney  he  suspected.  Nay,  he  knew  it 
was  Kearney,  and,  for  a  moment,  Mary  Sherman 
felt  that  the  floor  was  giving  way  beneath  her. 


280  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"No,  Mr.  Dudley,  what  Mr.  Kearney  said  was 
not  indicative  of  guilt.  You  are  judging  only 
on  circumstantial  evidence,  and  sometimes — nay, 
many  times  that  is  wrong." 

"But  not  in  this  case,  Miss  Sherman.  Oh,  the 
bishop  can  gloat  to-day,  but  to-morrow — just 
wait  until  to-morrow.  I've  got  him!  I've  got 
him!" 

Once  more  the  editor  was  pacing  the  room  and 
speaking  between  gritting  teeth. 

"Who? — the  bishop?"  asked  the  girl. 

"Well,  the  next  thing  to  it.  His  brother,  that 
ex-army  captain.  I've  got  the  goods  on  him." 

A  dread  fear  seized  the  girl's  heart.  The  blow 
she  had  expected  a  moment  before  was  now  com 
ing — only  in  a  more  direct  way. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Dudley?"  she  asked. 
Her  backbone  stiffened;  her  heart  beat  faster  as 
she  looked  towards  the  editor. 

Without  looking  at  her  the  chief  went  to  the 
safe  in  the  wall,  and,  while  working  the  combina 
tion,  said: 

"His  connection  with  that  Carew  woman.  I've 
got  all  the  facts  in  the  case ;  the  record  of  the  di 
vorce — everything! — and  here  they  are."  He 
turned  with  the  papers  in  his  hands  and  sat  down 
at  his  desk.  "I  haven't  trusted  even  Kearney  or 


THE  REVOLT  OF  A  SECRETARY  281 

you  with  them.    Hensen  sent  them  to  me — direct 
— and  now  I  can  use  them" 

Instantly  all  timidity  left  Mary  Sherman's 
heart.  She  was  in  thorough  command  of  herself 
now,  and  ready  to  fight  as  only  a  woman  can 
fight,  but  she  determined  to  give  this  editor  a 
chance  to  play  the  man.  If  he  did  not  do  that — 
then  she  would  play  her  card. 

"Use  them,  Mr.  Dudley?"  she  asked.  "For 
what  purpose?  To  satisfy  a  personal  grudge 
against  the  man  who  has  beaten  you  ?  Have  you 
no  charity?" 

"Charity?    For  whom?"  sneered  Dudley. 

"For  that  Carew  woman,  perhaps." 

"Why  for  her?  She  is  guilty!  There  was  evi 
dence  enough  against  her  to  convince  the  court." 

"Circumstantially,  perhaps,  yes.  But  there 
may  have  been  other  facts  not  revealed  at  the 
trial;  facts  a  court  will  not  allow  to  be  brought 
out." 

"What!  are  you  defending  this  woman?"  in 
terrogated  Dudley,  with  a  show  of  astonish 
ment. 

"No,"  she  softly  said,  "I'm  not  defending  the 
woman.  Probably  she  has  been  terribly  pun 
ished,  if  she  has  sinned.  Perhaps,  now,  she  is  off 
in  some  corner  of  this  little  world  working  hard 


282  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

to  make  a  living  and  striving  for  happiness.  The 
Banner  has  a  wide  circulation,  Mr.  Dudley. 
That  story  might  reach  the  girl  and  her  employ 
ers  and  ruin  her  chances.  You  know  the  world 
does  not  forgive  women — it  does  forgive  men." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

PELHAM   VS.    PELHAM 

HERE  was  more  opposition  for  Dudley.  This 
girl — his  secretary — an  employee,  standing  be 
fore  him  pleading  for  a  woman  without  a  char 
acter — a  woman  who  had  been  held  up  to  scorn 
in  a  court  of  law.  Ordinarily,  he  would  have  dis 
missed  such  opposition  by  a  wave  of  the  hand  and 
gone  on  about  his  work,  but  something  within 
him — a  shred  of  remaining  conscience,  perhaps, 
bade  him  reason  with  her,  to  show  how  untenable 
was  her  position.  And,  anyway,  his  newspaper 
was  not  run  on  sentiment.  This  was  in  the  day's 
work,  so  he  tersely  said : 

"Miss  Sherman,  this  Carew  woman  is  a  means 
to  an  end,  and  I  am  going  to  use  her." 

Poor  Mary  Sherman.  Quickly  she  made  up 
her  mind  that  he  should  not  use  this  "Carew 
woman"  until  she  had  exhausted  every  effort  to 

283 


284  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

stop  him,  and  if  worst  came  to  worst — well,  then, 
she- 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dudley,"  cried  the  girl,  "don't  you 
love  any  one  save  yourself?  Is  your  heart  so 
completely  encysted  with  venom  and  hate?  Sup 
pose  you  had  a  daughter." 

This  shot  struck  home. 

"Suppose  I  had  a  daughter,"  repeated  Dudley, 
his  voice  vibrant  with  the  softness  which  only 
comes  from  a  tender  heart — and  now  his  heart 
was  tender.  His  glance  stole  over  to  the  glass 
paper  weight  on  his  desk,  a  tenderness  came  into 
his  eyes  as  he  gazed  at  the  childlike  face  shining 
there. 

"I  did  have  a  daughter  once,"  he  said  gently, 
as  he  shoved  the  picture  to  his  secretary,  who 
looked  and  nodded  her  head. 

"That  is  her  picture,"  said  the  editor.  "She 
was  fair,  sweet,  and  winsome  to  look  upon.  But," 
and  here  there  was  a  catch  in  his  voice ;  it  trembled 
as  he  continued,  "at  four  she  died,  and  something 
within  me  died  with  her." 

He  did  not  tell  her  of  the  babe  that  had  died  at 
birth,  nor  of  the  mother  who  followed  on  before 
the  close  of  another  day — for  lack  of  proper 
nourishment  and  care.  He  did  not  tell  her  of  his 
second  marriage  to  a  woman  of  refinement  for 


'Suppose  I  had  a  daughter'9  repeated  Dudley — a  tender 
ness  came  into  his  eyes   as  he  gazed  at  the 
child-like  face  in  the  paper-weight 


PELHAM  VS.  PELHAM  285 

whom  he  had  built  the  great  castle  on  the  hill — 
nor  of  the  beautiful  child  she  had  borne  him. 
Xor  did  he  speak  of  the  death  of  the  child's 
mother,  which  came  as  a  final  blow  to  his  chance 
for  happiness  on  this  earth.  He  simply  paused 
a  few  moments  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hand. 

"Do  you  know,  Miss  Sherman,"  said  he  finally, 
"since  you've  been  here  I've  often  thought  my 
Mary  would  have  looked  like  you  by  now.  Oth 
ers,  too,  have  remarked  it.  She  would  have  been 
twenty-three  now." 

A  great  big  hope  sprang  up  in  Mary  Sher 
man's  heart.  A  man  who  could  have  such  tender 
memories  of  his  dead  child  surely  would  not  be 
so  cruel  as  to  condemn  a  woman  without  hearing 
— and  only  for  revenge.  She  knew  his  mind  was 
sore  over  his  defeat,  but  he  would  recover  from 
that. 

"And  twenty-three  is  just  my  age,  Mr.  Dud 
ley." 

Then  came  that  recovery  so  certain  in  men  of 
Dudley's  calibre.  A  revulsion,  as  it  were.  What 
was  he  doing?  Mooning?  Getting  sentimental? 
That  would  never  do.  The  fighting  man  re 
gained  mastery  over  the  tender  father  and  he 
curtly  said : 

"But  that's  nothing  to  do  with  this  case,  Miss 


286  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Sherman.    That  story  goes  in  to-morrow  morn 
ing's  Banner!" 

Again  the  cold  fear  gripped  her  heart.  Hold 
ing  out  one  slender  hand  she  said : 

"But,  Mr.  Dudley— please- 
Right  here  the  editor  determined  for  once  and 
all  to  convince  this  girl  she  was  wrong  and  her 
efforts  futile. 

"Here,  Miss  Sherman,  is  a  certified  copy  of 
that  woman's  divorce  case."  Opening  the  record, 
all  bound  in  ribbons  and  seals,  he  read: 

"Pelham  vs.  Pelham.  Now  listen  to  some  of 
this  testimony." 

Rapidly  turning  over  the  sheets  to  the  place  he 
desired,  he  paused,  and,  adjusting  his  glasses, 
continued  reading: 

"Questions  to  the  woman's  husband: 

"Q.  'Did  you  on  June  16th,  visit  the  Hotel 
Gilmore  ?' 

"A.     'I  did.' 

"Q.  'Please  state  to  the  court  exactly  what 
transpired  there.' 

"A.  'I  had  received  information  my  wife  was 
at  that  hotel  with  another  man.  I  went  there 
about  nine-thirty  in  the  evening,  and,  examining 
the  register,  found  thereon  the  name  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Edward  Cullen  assigned  to  room  613.  Cul- 


PELHAM  VS.  PELHAM  287 

len  was  the  man  I  had  suspected.  Taking  two 
witnesses  with  me  I  went  to  room  613  and 
knocked  on  the  door,  but  received  no  answer. 
Waiting  a  moment  I  knocked  again  and  there 
stood  Cullen.  The  room  was  in  a  state  of  disor 
der,  and,  standing  by  the  window  was  my  wife. 
Cullen  was  much  agitated.  I  was  shocked  be 
yond  measure,  upbraided  her  and  threatened  to 
shoot  Cullen,  but  my  witnesses  interfered  and 
took  me  away.  That  was  all.' ' 

During  the  reading  of  the  record  Mary  stood 
as  if  transfixed  with  horror,  much  like  the  timid 
hare  before  the  gleaming  eyes  of  a  fox-hound. 

Dudley  continued : 

"That  evidence  was  corroborated  by  two  repu 
table  witnesses  and  the  divorce  granted.  Isn't 
that  enough  for  you?  And" — reaching  out,  he 
touched  a  button,  "and  that's  the  woman  Captain 
Anderson  wants  to  marry." 

"Einough?  My  God!"  gasped  the  young  wo 
man.  The  whole  building  seemed  to  be  falling 
about  her. 

Without  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of  his  dra 
matic  recital,  Dudley  further  said: 

"The  story  is  all  prepared  and  in  type,  and  it 


288  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

goes  in  on  the  front  page  of  to-morrow  morning's 
Banner" 

Responding  to  the  summons,  Dennis  came  in 
and  Dudley  handed  him  the  prepared  article 
along  with  the  papers  in  the  case,  and  said : 

"Take  these  to  the  city  editor."  Then,  rub 
bing  his  hands,  as  if  in  great  glee  over  his  pros 
pective  revenge,  he  concluded : 

"There  it  is,  Miss  Sherman,  full  and  complete, 
and  it  does  not  contravene  the  libel  law." 

According  to  his  belief  Editor  Dudley  had  con 
vinced  this  girl  of  the  justness  of  his  position, 
the  righteousness  of  his  attitude ;  anyway,  he  was 
"within  the  law" — so  what  should  he  care?  To 
morrow  Bishop  Anderson's  proud  family  name 
would  be  exposed,  pilloried  by  public  scandal— 
thus,  in  a  measure,  Dudley  would  be  avenged  for 
his  defeat  in  the  council  chamber.  He  had  lost 
millions  to  which  he  had  not  a  shadow  of  right, 
but  his  personal  vanity,  his  egotism  would  be 
restored  by  this  muddy  attack  on  Captain  Ander 
son,  who,  seemingly,  had  been  mixed  up  with  a 
guilty  v.r.man. 

Swiftiy  and  surely  Mary  Sherman  divined  that 
which  v?s  in  Dudley's  mind.  She  well  knew  that 
nothiii"  /ould  stop  him — nothing  short  of  a  cata 
clysm,  mething  terrible  in  its  consequences. 


PELHAM  VS.  PELHAM  289 

But  what  could  she  do — a  defenseless  girl?  Al 
most  beside  herself  she  cried : 

"That's  just  it  with  you  men.  It's  always  the 
law.  So  long  as  you  stay  within  that,  it  makes 
no  difference  how  many  hearts  you  break,  or 
homes  you  wreck.  Just  law,  law,  law!" 

There  was  a  strong  temerity  in  her  voice,  a  ring 
of  defiance — and  Dudley  was  about  to  end  the 
interview,  when,  hearing  a  commotion  at  the  door, 
he  looked  up,  and  there  stood  Bishop  Anderson, 
unannounced,  and  seemingly  quite  calm  and  col 
lected.  Mary  Sherman  also  saw  with  consterna 
tion  the  bishop's  presence.  There  was  a  faint 
suspicion  of  a  look  of  triumph  on  the  bishop's 
face,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  might  be 
pardoned.  We  are  all  conscious  of  triumph  when 
a  hard-earned  victory  has  been  won.  So  far  as 
Dudley  was  concerned  the  interview  would  be  of 
very  short  duration. 

"Well,  what's  the  meaning  of  this  intrusion?" 
he  almost  snarled — "what  do  you  want  now? 
Aren't  you  satisfied?" 

Bishop  Anderson  slowly  advanced,  and  Mary 
Sherman  retired  to  a  position  near  the  mantel 
piece.  She  felt  that  she  ought  to  leave  the  room, 
but  something  within  determined  her  to  remain. 
There  was  still  a  chance  that  she  might  influence 


2QO  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Dudley  further.  In  his  anger  Dudley  forgot  her 
presence  and  the  bishop  merely  bowed,  and,  hold 
ing  out  his  hand  to  Dudley,  said : 

"I  want  what  I  have  always  wanted,  Mr.  Dud 
ley — peace.  I  want  to  be  friends  with  you." 

The  editor  ignored  the  outstretched  hand,  and 
scornfully  replied: 

"Friends  with  you,  Bishop  Anderson!  The 
one  man  who  in  all  my  life  has  ever  beaten  me! 
You  tricked  me  .  .  .  you  tricked  me!  But  I 
have  one  card  yet  to  play." 

Bishop  Anderson  had  expected  some  such  out 
burst  of  passion.  It  was  but  natural.  However, 
he  would  be  careful  not  to  give  way  to  a  similar 
feeling. 

"No,  I  didn't  trick  you.  I  merely  fought  fire 
with  fire — that  is  all.  I  told  you  in  the  begin 
ning  you  would  lose,  and  you  did.  I  now  come 
to  extend  the  olive  branch." 

There  was  no  exultant  ring  in  the  bishop's 
voice,  as  he  delivered  his  message.  On  the  con 
trary,  it  was  earnest  and  conciliatory,  but  it  did 
not  appeal  to  the  editor. 

"Rot!"  he  exclaimed,  "there  can  be  no  peace 
between  you  and  me.  I'll  admit  my  defeat  on 

the  franchise,  but "  and  here  his  voice  became 

metallic,  "you  read  to-morrow  morning's  Ban- 


PELHAM  VS.  PELHAM  291 

ner.  Just  read  it !"  A  thrust  like  this  was  not  to 
tally  unexpected.  The  bishop  smiled,  and  stood 
up  proudly. 

"A  personal  attack  on  me,  I  presume?" 

Dudley  had  intended  his  attack  on  Captain 
Anderson  to  be  a  surprise  to  the  bishop,  but  here 
was  a  chance  to  give  it  to  him  now.  It  would  give 
the  bishop  something  to  worry  about  pending  the 
detailed  story  in  the  morning  Banner. 

"No,  not  you,  Bishop  Anderson.  I  can't  at 
tack  you  personally.  I  have  had  you  looked  up 
and  you  are  one  of  the  few  public  men  who  could 
stand  such  a  search.  I'll  give  you  credit  for  that 
— but,"  he  continued,  narrowly  watching  his  un 
invited  guest  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words : 

"But,  there  is  a  member  of  your  family  who  is 
not  immune"  and  Dudley  sat  back  serenely  and 
scanned  the  bishop's  face. 

Into  Bishop  Anderson's  mind  there  came  the 
first  faint  suspicion  of  doubt.  His  own  family 
was  above  reproach — but  his  brother,  Captain 
Anderson !  Did  the  editor  have  a  story  concern 
ing  him?  Coolly,  he  replied,  "I  suppose  you 
mean  my  brother?" 

Dudley's  first  shot  had  told;  he  would  follow 
up  his  seeming  advantage. 


292  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Yes,  your  brother.  I've  got  his  record,  too, 
and  it's  somewhat  shady." 

Bishop  Anderson's  mind  worked  very  rapidly. 
In  a  way  he  knew  of  his  brother's  life  from  his 
birth  to  now.  There  was  nothing  radically 
wrong  with  this  record  else  the  army  would  not 
have  retained  him.  The  army  is  jealous  of  the 
private  character  of  its  officers,  but  newspapers 
have  a  way  of  finding  a  shred  and  building  a 
cable.  Maybe  Jack  had  been  guilty  of  some  boy 
ish  indiscretion  and  this  editor  had  found  it  out. 
Perhaps  it  was  Jack's  divorce,  and,  while  that 
was  unpleasant,  there  was  nothing  wrong  in  it. 
The  bishop  leaned  slightly  forward: 

"You  mean  his  unfortunate  divorce.  That  was 
regular  and  lawful.  Mr.  Dudley,  I'd  advise  you 
to  go  slow  with  Captain  Anderson." 

The  bishop  knew  any  unwarranted  attack  on 
his  brother  would  cause  Mr.  Dudley  trouble- 
physically,  to  say  the  least.     The  bishop  was 
playing  for  time,  but  Dudley  wouldn't  wait. 
While  the  iron  was  hot  he  would  strike  again. 

"No,  not  his  divorce,"  he  replied,  "but  the 
woman's  divorce  he  now  wants  to  marry." 

This  blow  struck  the  bishop  squarely.  How 
did  Dudley  know  that?  Jack  had  told  him  no 
one  knew  it.  Did  the  long  arm  of  newsgathering 


PELHAM  VS.  PELHAM  293 

pry  into  every  nook  and  cranny?  Mary  Sher 
man,  from  her  place  near  the  mantelpiece,  stood 
pale  and  panting,  drinking  in  every  word. 
Where  would  this  conflict  end?  Both  men  had 
forgotten  her  very  existence,  and  she  was  not 
sorry.  By  all  means,  she  should  be  there.  She 
would  stay  at  all  hazards. 

Recovering  himself,  Bishop  Anderson  leaned 
forward  and  said : 

"Do  you  know  that?" 

Was  the  bishop  again  acting  a  part?  Dudley 
looked  at  him  and  sneered. 

"Sure  I  know  it, — don't  you?" 

"No,  I  don't"  replied  the  bishop,  "but  I  ex 
pected  to  learn  of  it  to-night." 

Here  was  a  chance  for  a  master  stroke  for 
Dudley.  Taking  the  court  record  from  his  desk, 
he  literally  flung  it  at  the  bishop  with: 

"Well,  learn  it  now.  Read  that  court  record, 
especially  the  husband's  testimony  on  page  twen 
ty-six,  and  see  what  a  fine  specimen  of  woman 
hood  your  distinguished  ex-army  brother  wants 
to  marry." 

Wonderingly,  the  bishop  turned  to  the  page 
designated  and  read  the  words,  which  burned  and 
seared  themselves  into  his  brain.  What  a  pre 
cious  fool  his  brother  had  been  to  mix  himself  up 


294    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

with  such  a  woman !  The  bishop  was  cornered — 
he  must  make  terms,  any  kind  of  terms  of  peace 
with  the  editor.  His  victory  over  Dudley  in  the 
franchise  fight  was  forgotten.  He  must  sue  for 
peace,  to  protect  himself,  Helen,  Jack,  and  the 
unsuspecting  little  mother.  Surely  Mr.  Dudley 
would  be  amenable  to  reason. 

"But  you  won't  publish  such  a  story,"  he  cried; 
"this  is  horrible!" 

"Won't  I  ?"  replied  Dudley.    "It's  news." 

Right  here  Mary  Sherman  realized  the  time  for 
her  to  act  had  arrived,  and,  quietly  approaching 
Dudley's  desk,  she  asked: 

"May  I  say  a  word,  please?" 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

MARY   SHERMAN    TELLS    HER   STORY 

So  absorbed  had  been  the  editor  and  the  bishop 
m  their  conflict  that  they  had  forgotten  the  pres 
ence  of  this  slender  girl  who  now  stood  before 
them.  But  Dudley  would  brook  no  interference. 
His  voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  a  peremptory  com 
mand: 

"Miss  Sherman,  leave  the  room!" 

"But,  Mr.  Dudley,"  pleaded  the  girl. 

"You  are  my  secretary,  Miss  Sherman,  and 
this  does  not  concern  you." 

Prompt  action  was  necessary,  and,  looking  at 
her  employer  with  unwavering  eyes,  she  replied 
in  an  even,  modulated  voice: 

"Yes,  Mr.  Dudley,  it  does  concern  me  more 
than  you  think." 

Dudley  was  thoroughly  angry.  How  could 
any  such  story  concern  his  secretary? 

"Miss  Sherman " 

295 


296  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Raising  one  slender  hand  and  closing  her  eyes, 
as  if  to  shut  out  the  blow  which  she  knew  was 
about  to  come,  the  young  woman  quietly  said: 
"Mr.  Dudley,  and  you,  Bishop  Anderson — I  am 
the  woman  in  that  divorce  case. 

Profound  silence  followed  this  statement,  in 
terrupted  only  by  the  hard  breathing  of  two  men, 
as  they  sensed  this  confession  and  realized  its  full 
import.  The  bishop  could  not  believe  his  ears. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  cried. 

Dudley  was  much  too  dumbfounded  to  speak 
for  a  moment.  He  had  liked  this  girl — and 

now !  His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by 

the  girl's  voice  saying : 

"I  am  Mrs.  Pelham — my  maiden  name  is 
Phyllis  Carew.  I  am  the  woman,  Mr.  Dudley, 
you  propose  excoriating  in  your  paper  to-morrow 
morning.  I,  Bishop  Anderson,  am  the  woman 
your  brother  wants  to  marry." 

The  cleric  was  beside  himself  with  enraged 
emotion  when  he  realized  that  at  last  he  was  face 
to  face  with  the  woman  in  the  case. 

"Marry  you!"  he  cried.  "You  can't  mean  it. 
And  you  would  have  him  do  this  and  thus  ruin 
his  life — disgrace  his  name — and  that  of  his  fam 
ily!" 

There  was  a  certain  tone  in  Mary  Sherman's 


MARY  TELLS  HER  STORY        297 

voice,  as  she  replied,  that  made  the  bishop  pause. 
She  said: 

"Stop,  sir!  Stop  right  now,  Bishop  Ander 
son  !  You  have  no  right  to  say  that !  You  do  not 
know  the  facts.  Are  you  to  judge  me  unheard?" 

"I  know  what  Captain  Anderson  has  told  me. 
I  also  know  what  this  record  says"  and  he  held 
out  the  document  towards  the  sorely  tried  girl. 
Dudley  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  watched, 
with  glee,  the  bishop's  discomfiture;  he  would 
bide  his  time.  His  secretary  did  not  seem  to  no 
tice  the  record,  as  she  replied: 

"Yes,  but  you  do  not  know  what  that  record 
does  not  show" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  the  editor.    Now 
was  the  time  for  Mary  Sherman  to  tell  all— 
everything,  and  the  whole  truth. 

"That  I  was  inveigled  into  that  hotel — room 
613;  that  I  walked  into  a  trap  that  was  set  for  me 
by  my  legal  husband.  I ' 

The  bishop  in  his  church  work  had  in  his  day 
dealt  with  many  erring  women,  and  he  knew  that 
their  tendency  when  confronted  was  to  deny. 

"A  likely  story,"  said  he,  with  a  semblance  of 
a  sneer. 

"Where's  your  proof  of  this?"  asked  Dudley. 
Truly,  Mary  Sherman  was  on  the  rack. 


298  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"I  haven't  any  now.    Nothing  save  my  word" 

Then  the  bishop  asked : 

"Why  didn't  you  defend  yourself  in  court?'* 

Taking  a  step  forward  until  she  confronted 
both  men,  she  spoke  sharply : 

"Defend  myself!  Would  any  judge  have  be 
lieved  me  any  more  than  you  two  do  right  now? 
What  chance  had  I  against  my  husband's  state 
ments,  the  hotel  register  and  two  witnesses,  who 
were  telling  the  truth,  as  they  saw  it.  Witnesses 
for  such  purposes  are  cheap  in  any  large  city. 
You  both  know  that." 

There  was  an  air  of  bitterness  in  her  voice, 
and  she  paused  for  a  moment  as  if  to  collect  her 
self. 

"What  do  you  know  about  my  unhappy  child 
hood?"  she  continued — "father  and  mother  both 
dying  when  I  was  a  babe  and  I  being  brought  up 
by  a  maiden  aunt?  What  do  you  know  about  my 
meeting  Pelham,  a  fascinating,  good-looking 
man,  and  eloping  with  him  when  I  was  but  six 
teen  ?  What  do  you  know  about  his  tiring  of  me 
and  wanting  to  divorce  me?  He  gave  me 
grounds — a  plenty,  but  I  refused  to  take  action. 
My  church — your  church,  Bishop  Anderson — 
your  church t  I  say,  forbade  that — and  I  am  a 
churchwoman.  What  do  you  know  of  my  feel- 


MARY  TELLS  HER  STORY        299 

ings  when  at  seventeen  I  became  a  mother  only 
to  have  my  husband  sneeringly  say,  'he  doubted 
whether  he  was  the  father  of  that  brat?' ' 

The  young  woman  covered  her  face,  as  if  to 
shut  out  the  awful  picture,  and  her  voice  became 
hard,  as  she  continued: 

"I  wish  I  could  have  killed  him!"  said  she  bit 
terly.  Then  her  voice  softened  to  almost  a  sob 
as  she  said:  "Three  months  later  my  baby  died— 
died— oh!" 

The  bishop  and  the  editor  listened,  but  in  their 
hearts  they  believed  the  story  was  only  a  well- 
acted  fabrication — but  she  was  allowed  to  con 
tinue  without  interruption. 

"After  this  my  husband  became  more  cruel 
than  ever.  He  drank,  beat  me — left  me  alone  for 
days,  and  when  he  did  come  home  it  was  one 
quarrel  after  another.  Finally,  I  couldn't  stand 
it  any  longer  and  went  to  my  aunt's  home  in 
Brooklyn.  Three  days  later  came  a  'phone  mes 
sage  that  my  husband  had  suddenly  taken  ill  at 
the  Hotel  Gilmore  and  wanted  me  to  come  to 
him.  Once  again  my  churchly  duty  called  upon 
me  and  I  went — and  was  caught  like  a  rat  in  a 
trap.  Can  I  ever  forget  it?  You  know  what 
happened !  That  divorce  record  shows  that.  The 
man  Cullen,  after  my  husband  deserted  me,  leav- 


ing  me  with  this  man,  proposed  that  I  take  up 
life  with  him.  I  struck  him  and  then  swooned. 
A  gentleman  and  lady  who  happened  to  be  in 
the  same  hotel  found  me  and  cared  for  me.  They 
believed  me  and  furnished  me  with  money  for  a 
business  education,  and  I've  been  a  self-respect 
ing,  self-sustaining  woman  ever  since,  and  my 
soul  is  clean  and  it  will  stay  clean." 

Almost  exhausted,  Mary  Sherman  paused  and 
looked  pleadingly  at  her  auditors.  Her  recital 
had  been  dramatic,  but  Dudley,  the  flint-hearted, 
fighting  editor  was  not  convinced.  Neither  was 
the  churchly  bishop. 

Dudley  observed,  in  what  he  considered  a  gen 
tle  voice : 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  young  lady,  but  such 
statements  are  not  necessarily  facts,  upon  whicli 
your  innocence  can  be  proved." 

"Don't  I  know  it?"  cried  the  girl,  and  then, 
holding  out  her  hands  in  a  helpless  manner,  she 
said:  "Oh,  why  isn't  he  here?" 

"Who?"  asked  the  bishop,  almost  divining 
what  her  answer  would  be. 

"Your  brother — Captain  Anderson." 

How  far  would  this  convicted  woman  carry  her 
effrontery,  wondered  Dr.  Anderson.  Now  he 


MARY  TELLS  HER  STORY        301 

became  angry,  and,  for  the  first  time,  forgot  his 
churchly  calling. 

"I  am  glad  he  isn't;  he  might  be  foolish  enough 
to  believe  you." 

The  girl  made  no  reply,  and,  becoming  impa 
tient,  Dudley  arose  from  his  chair. 

"You  must  realize  after  this  your  connection 
with  this  office  must  cease,"  said  he.  "I  cannot 
retain  such  a  woman  in  a  confidential  capacity." 

"I  expected  that,  Mr.  Dudley.  It  is  in  thor 
ough  keeping  with  your  generosity.  But  I  did 
hope  for  at  least  charity  from  a  bishop" 

Bishop  Anderson,  quite  taken  aback  by  this 
remark,  moved  uneasily  in  the  chair  into  which 
he  had  fallen. 

"I  am  charitable,  Miss — Miss —  '  he  stam 
mered,  not  knowing  what  name  to  address  her  by. 

"Carew,  Bishop  Anderson — that's  a  clean 
name/1 

"Well,  I  advise  you  to  keep  it,  and  if  I  can 
serve  you  in  any  way,  why— 

The  mockery  of  his  words  stung  the  girl  into  a 
fury.  She  had  been  dishonored  and  discredited 
by  both  these  men.  Like  an  enraged  tigress  she 
turned  and  said : 

"You  cannot  serve  me,  Bishop  Anderson. 
Your  offer  is  genuine  hypocrisy,  and  it  is  just 


302     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

such  narrow-minded  men  as  you  and  Mr.  Dud 
ley  that  drive  women  to  the  streets.  Sin  in  the 
form  of  brightly  lighted  saloons  and  dance  halls 
holds  out  a  warm  welcome  to  the  downcast.  They 
ask  no  questions.  But  your  churches — solemn 
old  buildings  hidden  behind  the  garb  of  respec 
tability — demand  the  pedigree  of  every  woman 
before  she  dares  to  hold  her  head  up  within  their 
portals.  That's  your  twentieth  century  religion." 

Bishop  Anderson  interrupted.  "Young  lady," 
he  admonished^,  "you  are  beside  yourself." 

"No,  I'm  not  beside  myself.  I  am  speaking 
the  truth — and  you  know  it"  Pausing  for  a 
brief  moment  as  if  to  collect  herself  for  a  final 
effort,  she  turned  towards  the  editor  and  said : 

"And  to  you,  Mr.  Dudley — I  just  want  to  say 
one  word  before  I  go.  You  have  been  defeated 
in  your  franchise  fight,  and  it  wasn't  Bishop  An 
derson  who  beat  you;  it  wasn't  Kearney;  it  was 
I.  Do  you  hear?  I  did  it!  I  beat  you!  I  fur 
nished  all  the  information  to  Bishop  Anderson, 
although  he  did  not  know  it.  I  am  the  one  who 
unearthed  Alberts.  I  am  the  one  who  took  the 
papers  from  your  desk.  I  knew  from  your  corre 
spondence  with  Hensen  you  were  after  me,  and 
I  determined  if  you  were  going  to  wreck  me  and 
my  chance  of  happiness,  I'd  pull  down  one  house 


MARY  TELLS  HER  STORY        303 

around  your  head  before  I  went.  And  I  did — I 
did — I,  a  poor,  defenseless  woman!  I  did  it — 
I  did  it,  I  tell  you !  Now  I  am  going,  but  not  to 
the  streets  as  you  would  send  me.  I  am  clean— 
I  always  have  been — and  I  am  going  to  keep  that 
way,  and  all  of  the  editors  and  bishops  in  the 
world  cannot  make  me  different." 

She  stopped,  her  task  was  over.  She  had  told 
her  story;  the  truth  she  knew  it  to  be,  and  it  was 
not  believed.  There  was  nothing  more  to  do. 
Both  men  sat  quiet — transfixed — as  she  slowly 
turned  away  from  them  and  started  to  leave  the 
office.  At  the  doorway  she  paused  a  moment, 
and,  looking  at  Bishop  Anderson,  quietly  said: 

"Bishop  Anderson,  you  have  called  Mr.  Dud 
ley  a  Pharisee.  Shake  hands  with  him — you 
and  he  are  of  the  same  sect." 

With  that  she  was  gone. 

Neither  man  spoke  for  a  moment.  Both  were 
tremendously  affected  by  her  recital.  Dudley, 
because  he  knew  he  had  the  bishop  by  the  throat, 
and  Dr.  Anderson,  because  he  feared  the  expos 
ure  of  his  brother's  connection  with  such  a 
woman. 

Dudley  gloated.  "And  now,  Bishop  Ander 
son,  how  will  you  feel  when  this  story  comes  out 
to-morrow?" 


304     THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"Mr.  Dudley,  won't  you  wait  until  I  see  my 
brother.  I  am  sure  I  can  convince  him  of  the 
error  of  his  ways."  The  bishop's  independence 
was  gone;  his  fighting  spirit  broken. 

"No,  I  won't  wait  a  minute." 

"But  my  church,  my  family — this  is  awful!" 

"You  should  have  thought  of  all  this  during  the 
past  summer  when  you  were  lambasting  me  on 
the  franchise  fight,  Bishop  Anderson.  You  have 
had  your  hour  of  triumph,  now  I'll  have  mine. 
'People  who  live  in  glass  houses' — you  know  the 
rest." 

"Just  a  day,  Mr.  Dudley,"  pleaded  the  bishop. 

"Not  a  second — to-morrow  morning  the  story 
will  be  printed." 

There  was  a  silence  broken  by  the  reappear 
ance  of  the  girl.  Advancing  quickly  toward  the 
editor's  desk  she  laid  a  bunch  of  keys  in  front 
of  him  and  said : 

"I  forgot  to  give  you  these,  Mr.  Dudley.  I 
would  advise  you  to  keep  your  desk  securely 
locked.  There  are  other  papers  in  it  which  might 
incriminate  you." 

As  she  turned  to  go,  Dudley  said  "Wait,"  and, 
taking  his  pen,  wrote — and,  handing  her  the  pa 
per,  said: 


MARY  TELLS  HER  STORY        305 

"Here's  an  order  on  the  cashier  for  one  month's 
extra  salary.  You  may  need  it." 

Without  looking  at  the  order,  Mary  Sherman 
tore  it  in  bits  and  threw  the  pieces  on  his  desk. 
"I  do  not  need  your  charity,  Mr.  Dudley,"  she 
scornfully  replied,  and,  without  another  word, 
turned  toward  the  door — and  there  stood  Cap 
tain  Jack  Anderson,  smiling  happily  upon  those 
present. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

CAPTAIN   ANDERSON    TO   THE   RESCUE 

WHEN  the  brothers  parted  immediately  after 
luncheon,  Captain  Anderson  had  gone  to  the 
Hotel  Ashland  and  sent  his  card  to  a  certain 
room.  Then  he  went  to  the  hotel  parlor  where  he 
held  an  interview,  which,  to  judge  from  his  face, 
was  satisfactory.  This  done,  he  hastened  to  The 
Banner  Building,  there  expecting  to  meet  the 
bishop  and  go  home. 

"Perhaps  the  old  Doc  might  need  me,"  said  he 
thoughtfully  unto  himself.  "He's  a  pretty  hot 
headed  chap,  and  Dudley  might  hand  him  some 
thing  he  couldn't  stand." 

Entering  the  building,  the  captain  inquired 
the  way  to  Dudley's  office,  and,  going  up,  found 
no  one  in  the  ante-room.  The  outer  door  was 
open  and  he  heard  the  voice  of  Mary  Sherman, 
or,  rather,  that  of  Phyllis  Carew,  as  she  scorned 

Dudley's  check.     Quietly  entering  the  door,  he 

306 


CAPT.  ANDERSON  TO  THE  RESCUE    307 

waited  until  she  saw  him  and  then  advanced 
slowly  into  the  room.  A  glad  light  came  into  the 
girl's  eyes  at  the  sight  of  the  stalwart  figure  com 
ing  toward  her.  At  once  she  knew  that  she  had 
a  friend  in  court.  She  almost  sobbed  as  she  mur 
mured:  "Oh,  Jack!" 

Taking  one  of  her  hands  in  his  he  inquired: 
"Where  are  you  going?"  Then,  looking  at  the 
two  men,  he  added,  "why,  what  is  the  matter?" 

Neither  the  editor  nor  bishop  spoke.  Both 
were  busy  with  their  thoughts.  The  projection 
of  Captain  Anderson  into  the  "jury  room"  at  this 
time  bode  no  good  for  either  of  them. 

Then  to  Phyllis  he  continued:  "When  I  saw 
you  a  short  while  ago  you  were  bright  and  cheer 
ful — now  you  look  worried." 

Phyllis  started  to  go  out  of  the  room,  but  the 
captain  took  her  hand  and  held  her  back.  Then 
he  spoke  to  his  brother,  "Come,  Doc — what  is  it? 
What's  the  trouble?" 

No  answer  came  from  the  bishop.  His  mind 
was  befuddled  over  the  dramatic  events  which 
had  just  taken  place,  and  he  wished  his  brother 
was  in  Labrador,  or  some  other  equally  distant 
place.  His  coming,  especially  at  this  time,  was 
most  unfortunate. 

It  occurred  to  Captain  Anderson  he  had  never 


3o8  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

met  the  editor  personally,  so  he  bowed  and  said: 

"Mr.  Dudley,  I  presume  you  know  who  I  am?" 

This  gave  the  chief  an  opening.  He  had  one 
brother  completely  at  his  mercy;  why  not  finish 
the  job? 

"Certainly  I  do,  Captain  Anderson,  and  you 
come  at  a  most  opportune  moment." 

"Why,  may  I  ask?" 

Dudley  sneered,  "Ask  the  bishop." 

A  feeling  was  creeping  in  the  ex-army  man's 
mind  that  something  was  coming  off  and  quickly, 
too.  He  would  parley  no  longer,  and,  turning 
to  the  bishop : 

"Well,  Hank,  what  is  it?"  The  use  of  "Hank" 
meant  formalities  were  over,  and  the  bishop  real 
ized  it.  He  might  as  well  get  through  with  the 
matter  as  soon  as  possible,  and  be  done  with  it. 

"Jack,  I  know  the  story  you — you  wanted  to 
tell  me."  The  bishop's  voice  was  husky  and  un 
certain. 

"And  now  that  you  do  know  it,  Hank,  what  do 
you  make  of  it?" 

The  bishop  couldn't  understand  his  brother's 
attitude.  By  rights  the  captain  should  have  re 
coiled  at  the  information,  but,  instead  of  that,  he 
stood  there  calm  and  quiet  as  if  he  were  on  pa 
rade. 


CAPT.  ANDERSON  TO  THE  RESCUE    309 

"Well,  Jack,  Mr.  Dudley  is  going  to  publish 
it  in  to-morrow  morning's  Banner.  Give  her  up 
and  stop  it." 

Phyllis  Carew's  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat, 
as  she  watched  Captain  Anderson  turn  and  ad 
vance  to  the  desk,  behind  which  sat  Dudley. 
There  was  a  hard,  metallic  ring  in  his  voice,  as  he 
said: 

"Mr.  Dudley,  if  you  publish  that  story  in  to 
morrow's  or  any  other  morning's  paper,  I  will 
kill  you!  You  understand — kill  you  as  I  would 
a  mad  dog!" 

The  editor  found  himself  gazing  into  eyes, 
which,  ordinarily,  were  blue,  but  now  looked  like 
bullets.     Dudley  knew  this  man  meant  every 
word  he  said,  but  he  was  not  a  physical  coward; 
he  had  often  been  threatened  before. 

"You  can't  bluff  me,  Captain  Anderson.  I  am 
running  a  newspaper,  and  neither  you  nor  any 
other  man  can  dictate  my  policy.  Your  brother 
tried  that." 

"I  am  not  trying  to  bluff  you,  Mr.  Dudley. 
I  am  simply  stating  what  will  happen." 

The  bishop  interrupted:  "But,  Jack,  the  story 
is  true,"  and  Dudley,  thinking  to  convince  the 
army  man  once  and  for  all,  added :  "And  I  have 
the  court  records  of  her  divorce." 


310  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

The  bishop  picked  up  the  record  and  held  it 
out  to  his  brother,  who  did  not  deign  to  even 
look  at  it.  He  knocked  it  out  of  his  brother's 
hand,  and  said : 

"Court  records  be  hanged!  If  I  had  a  dollar 
for  every  court  record  that  was  not  fair  or  just 
under  our  rotten  judicial  system  I  could  buy 
Dudley's  paper  and  the  American  Gas  Light 
Company  to  boot." 

Phyllis'  heart  sang  with  praises  at  these  words. 
The  bishop's  heart  sank  within  him.  He  knew  his 
brother  would  keep  his  word  and  kill  the  editor 
if  the  story  was  published.  Dudley's  heart  didn't 
sing  at  all.  It  just  beat. 

"Miss — Miss "  faltered  the  editor. 

"Carew,"  said  the  captain — "don't  forget  the 
name,  Mr.  Dudley." 

"Well,  Miss  Carew,  then,  has  stated  that  she 
was  trapped." 

"And  so  she  was,  Mr.  Dudley." 

"How  do  you  know  this,  Jack?"  cried  the 
bishop. 

"How  do  I  know?  Why,  I  was  in  the  Hotel 
Gilmore  in  New  York  the  night  it  happened.  So 
was  mother." 

"You  and  mother!"  exclaimed  the  bishop,  his 


CAPT.  ANDERSON  TO  THE  RESCUE    31 1 

voice  ringing  with  disgust.  "Mother  in  a  hotel 
like  that!  What  will  you  do  next?" 

The  army  man  looked  at  the  churchman  with 
a  pitying  glance. 

"For  a  man  of  your  years  and  learning,  Doc, 
you  know  less  than  any  man  I've  ever  met.  Such 
a  scene  could  be  staged  in  any  respectable  hotel 
in  Presidio,  New  York,  or  any  other  city." 

Dudley,  naturally,  put  the  wrong  interpreta 
tion  on  Captain  Anderson's  statement. 

"Oh,"  he  sneered,  "so  you  were  in  the  Hotel 
Gilmore  that  night.  Well,  maybe— 

Captain  Anderson  knew  of  what  the  editor  was 
thinking,  and  once  more  gazing  at  him  with  un 
flinching  eyes,  interrupted  and  said: 

"Stop  right  there,  Mr.  Dudley,  or  I  may  not 
wait  for  the  publication  of  to-morrow's  paper 
to  carry  out  my  threat.  I  can  prove  my  state 
ments." 

"Huh,  what  can  you  prove?" 

The  bishop  leaned  forward  to  catch  his  broth 
er's  answer. 

"That  this  girl  was  trapped  by  a  gang  and  that 
she  is  as  innocent  as — as — well,  my  mother/' 

"Leave  mother  out  of  this,  I  beg  of  you,"  test 
ily  cried  the  bishop. 

"I  will  not — I  mean  what  I  say."    The  cap- 


312  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

tain's  dander  was  rising  to  the  danger  point. 

"How  can  you  prove  this?"  doubtingly  asked 
the  editor. 

"By  producing  the  leader  of  the  gang." 

Something  within  the  bishop  told  him  the  cap 
tain  was  not  firing  wildly.  His  manner,  his  ac 
tions,  his  words. 

"Where  is  this  leader,  Jack?" 

"Over  at  the  Hotel  Ashland.  May  I  use  your 
'phone,  Mr.  Dudley?" 

"Yes,  go  ahead,"  replied  the  chief.  He  would 
give  the  captain  a  chance  to  make  his  bluff  good. 

Jack  called  the  Ashland  and  paused  a  mo 
ment.  Presently  the  answer  came. 

"Hello  .  .  .  Room  1018  .  .  .  Are  you  able 
to  come  out  now?  .  .  .  Thank  you.  Come  to 
The  Banner  Building,  please.  .  .  .  It's  very  im 
portant.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  know,  but  circumstances 
have  changed  and  I  want  you  now.  Just  a  few 
blocks  down  the  street.  Take  a  taxi.  Thank 
you.  Come  right  up  to  Mr.  Dudley's  private  of 
fice  on  the  second  floor." 

While  he  was  talking  both  men  were  wonder 
ing  just  what  he  was  up  to.  Who  was  this  per 
son  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire?  Phyllis,  too, 
was  in  a  wondering  mood — but  she  trusted  the 
captain  implicitly. 


CAPT.  ANDERSON  TO  THE  RESCUE    313 

Turning  away  from  the  telephone,  Jack  An 
derson  scornfully  looked  into  the  eyes  of  each 
man  alternately. 

"Now  I  am  going  to  make  you  two — pulpit 
and  press — thoroughly  ashamed  of  yourselves." 

"Well,  it's  up  to  you  to  show  me,"  said  Dud 
ley. 

"Men  of  your  stripe  generally  have  to  be  shown 
with  a  club,"  retorted  the  captain. 

The  editor  writhed  uneasily,  but  waited.  If 
this  confident  man  could,  as  he  said,  prove  Miss 
Carew's  story,  Dudley  felt  that  he  would  be  in  a 
very  unpleasant  position.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  wait. 

"Jack,  if  this  divorce  record  is  false,  how  long 
have  you  known  it?" 

"From  the  minute  Miss  Carew  told  her  hor 
rible  experiences  to  mother  and  me." 

"Mother!"  ejaculated  the  astonished  bishop. 

"Yes,  to  mother  and  me — the  day  after  it  hap 
pened.  Mother  and  I  found  her  in  that  room  in 
a  dead  faint  after  the  conspirators  had  succeeded 
in  compromising  her  name." 

The  bishop  couldn't  realize  all  this.  It  was 
getting  mighty  close  to  home. 

"You  found  her  there?"  he  stammered. 


314  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

"I  just  said  so.  Mother  cared  for  her  that 
night." 

Phyllis  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  to  inter 
ject.  "And  Mrs.  Anderson  has  been  a  mother 
to  me  ever  since." 

Shaking  his  head,  the  bishop  heard  his  brother 
say,  "and  mother  gave  Phyllis  the  money  for  her 
business  education — every  cent  of  which  has  been 
paid  back." 

Then  a  pleasant  thought  seemed  to  strike  the 
army  man ;  he  smiled  and  continued : 

"Doc,  you  furnished  that  money." 

"I  did?    How?"  gasped  the  astonished  bishop. 

"You  had  just  published  that  book  wherein 
your  hero  and  heroine,  two  unmarried  people, 
were  shipwrecked  on  a  lonely,  uninhabited  island 
in  the  South  Pacific,  and  had  to  live  there  twenty 
years.  Their  clothing  wasn't  saved  with  them. 
That  fact  made  the  book  a  great  seller,  and  from 
your  royalties  you  sent  mother  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars.  That's  the  money  she  used." 

Even  Dudley  was  amused  at  this  incident  and 
grimly  smiled  at  the  bishop's  discomfiture. 

"And  after  that,  what  did  you  do?"  asked  the 
bishop.  He  wanted  the  whole  story. 

"I  started  to  find  the  proof.    Of  course,  Pel- 


CAPT.  ANDERSON  TO  THE  RESCUE    315 

ham  and  his  gang  left  their  accustomed  haunts 
and  I  only  had  a  slender  clew. 

"This,"  continued  the  captain,  producing  a 
piece  of  paper,  "is  a  charge  slip  from  Smith's  de 
partment  store,  dated  June  16th,  1908,  and  made 
out  to  Miss  Rose  Melton — one  suit  of  silk  paja 
mas,  five  dollars." 

"What  in  the  world  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"They  constitute  a  part  of  the  properties  and 
exhibits  in  Miss  Carew's  tragedy." 

"Well,  go  on." 

"I  am  glad,  in  a  way,  Doc,  you  would  not 
hear  this  story  the  night  mother  and  I  came  here, 
because  then  I  did  not  have  any  proof  save  Phyl 
lis'  unsupported  word,  and  my  unbounded  faith 
in  her  innocence.  But  now  it's  different,  and  I 
have  the  proof." 

Dudley  broke  in,  "Where  is  it?" 

"You  want  me  to  come  in,  Captain  Ander 
son?"  asked  a  husky  voice  at  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A   COMPLETE   EXHONERATION 

THE  four  occupants  turned  and  looked,  and 
there  stood  what  had  once  been  a  beautiful 
woman,  but  now  weak,  emaciated  and  pale,  with 
great  rings  under  her  eyes.  Her  cheeks  were 
hollow  and  her  breathing  difficult.  One  hand 
was  held  to  her  breast,  and  it  was  plain  to  be 
seen  she  was  consumptive.  Instinctively  the 
bishop  and  editor  arose,  while  Phyllis  Carew 
looked  on  in  wonderment. 

Captain  Anderson  crossed  the  office,  and,  with 
that  innate  breeding  of  a  gentleman,  quietly  said : 

"Yes,  thank  you,  come  in,"  and,  giving  her  his 
arm,  assisted  her  slowly  across  the  room. 

"Sit  down,  won't  you?" 

"Thank  you,"  came  the  gasping  reply,  "I  am 
a  little  winded." 

Slowly   sinking  in   the   proffered   chair,   the 

woman  waited. 

316 


A  COMPLETE  EXHONERATION     317 

"Is  this  the  proof?"  thought  Dudley,  but  he 
said: 

"Miss  Sherman — I  beg  your  pardon — Miss 
Carew — do  you  know  this  woman?" 

Phyllis  shook  her  head  and  slowly  answered: 

"No,  I  do  not.  I  never  saw  her  before  in  my 
life." 

A  wan  smile  overspread  the  sick  woman's  face. 
She  coughed  and  looked  at  Phyllis  and  said: 

"Sure  you  don't  know  me.  But,  in  a  way,  we 
are  related." 

Phyllis  Carew  wonderingly  asked : 

"How?" 

"We  have  both  been  married  to  the  same 
skate." 

For  a  minute  Phyllis  did  not  realize  what  the 
woman  meant;  then,  with  a  sudden  rush,  came 
the  knowledge  that  this  was  the  other  woman. 
Advancing  toward  her,  Phyllis  gasped: 

"Then  you  are ?" 

"Yes,"  interrupted  the  poor  creature,  "yes,  I 
am  the  woman  who  took  your  husband  away  from 
you,  and  I  wish  to  God  I  never  had !"  There  was 
a  world  of  bitterness  in  her  husky  voice,  and  she 
clenched  her  hands  as  she  spoke. 

For  a  second  all  the  scorn  of  Phyllis'  nature 
came  to  the  surface  as  she  cried,  "Oh — vou — 


318  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

you!"  Then,  recovering  herself,  her  gentle  soul 
and  sweet  nature  arose  to  the  occasion,  and  she 
continued : 

"Oh,  I  pity  you !    I  pity  you  1" 

Bishop  Anderson  and  Dudley  heard  the 
woman  with  mingled  feelings  of  doubt.  Captain 
Anderson  merely  bided  his  time.  He  knew,  but 
the  facts  were  not  yet  forthcoming. 

"You  say,"  questioned  the  bishop,  "you  took 
her  husband?  How?" 

"You  want  all  the  facts?  Well,  I'll  give 
them,  only  please  don't  interrupt  me.  I  want 
to  get  this  over  as  soon  as  possible.  I  took 
this  woman's  husband  through  a  job  that  was  put 
up  on  her  by  a  lawyer  named  Snodgrass,  whereby 
we  got  her  to  come  to  room  613  of  the  Hotel  Gil- 
more,  New  York,  with  a  man  named  Cullen.  We 
did  this  by  having  her  'phoned  that  her  husband 
was  ill  and  wanted  her.  She  came  and  I  reckon 
you  know  the  rest." 

Dudley  said:  "We  have  the  divorce  record  here 
telling  of  a  disordered  room." 

"Sure  you  have  that.    We  arranged  all  that." 

"We?"  cried  the  bishop. 

"Sure,  we.  Ain't  I  telling  you,  Snodgrass,  the 
lawyer;  Pelham,  the  man;  Cullen,  the  co-re 
spondent,  and  little  me.  But  if  you  want  to 


A  COMPLETE  EXHONERATION     319 

know,  I  paid  for  the  whole  thing  .  .  .  and  how 
I  did  pay!" 

The  memory  of  her  payment  was  bitter,  in 
deed.  Phyllis  Carew  could  scarcely  believe  her 
ears. 

The  woman  continued : 

"Snodgrass,  the  lawyer,  set  the  stage.  The 
'phone  brought  the  woman,  the  two  witnesses 
planted  by  Snodgrass  came  and  saw;  the  pre 
sumption  of  guilt  was  established.  The  rest  was 
easy.  It  cost  me  about  fifteen  hundred  dollars, 
and  my  reward  was  the  man — and  this  girlie's 
penalty — disgrace." 

Both  Dudley  and  the  bishop  were  astounded; 
they  could  hardly  believe  their  ears.  A  moment 
ago  Phyllis  Carew  stood  before  them,  as  she  had 
before  the  bar  of  justice,  convicted,  stripped  of 
the  last  shred  of  character.  Here  was  indispu 
table  evidence  that  they  were  wrong. 

"How  could  you!"  cried  the  bishop.  "How 
could  you  wreck  an  innocent  woman's  life?" 

"Bishop,"  replied  the  woman  slowly,  "women 
of  my  class  don't  stop  to  consider  these  things. 
I  used  to  be  a  member  of  the  "Sunshine  Chorus." 
I  had  face  and  figure.  A  rich  old  gink  fell  in 
love  with  me;  he  had  coin — I  wanted  it,  so  I 
married  him  and  went  to  'Frisco  to  live.  A  year 


320  THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

afterwards  he  died,  leaving  me  a  bunch  of  money 
and  the  call  of  Broadway  was  too  strong.  I  am 
a  product  of  the  bright  lights — I  have  many 
sisters.  Well,  I  went  back  and  I  met  Pelham. 
He's  a  Forty-second  and  Broadway  chap.  He 
was  a  good-looking  pup.  Gave  me  a  song  and 
dance  about  his  unhappy  married  life — I  fell  for 
it.  He  fitted  into  my  scheme  of  life  and  I  bought 
him — like  I  would  a  horse.  Women  of  my  class 
don't  count  the  cost  in  such  things.  We  just 
pay!  pay!  pay!" 

A  blaze  of  wrath  swept  over  Dudley.  He 
cried:  "And  you  call  yourself  a  woman?" 

Imperturbably,  the  woman  replied: 

"Sure.  There  are  two  classes  of  women  in  the 
world.  This  girlie  is  in  one  class  and  I'm  in  the 
other.  She  was  too  good  for  Pelham.  I  did  her 
a  favor — only  the  method  was  rather  raw." 

Jack  Anderson's  spirits  were  high  when  he 
realized  "Mary  Sherman"  was  winning.  Stand 
ing  beside  Phyllis,  holding  her  hand  in  his,  he 
said  to  the  woman : 

"Tell  them,  please,  what  became  of  Cullen  and 
Pelham." 

"They  won't  bother  any  one  any  more.  When 
I  got  Pelham,  he  and  Cullen  had  a  high  old  time 
while  my  money  lasted.  Oh,  yes,  I  let  them  have 


A  COMPLETE  EXHONERATION     321 

it  all  right.  Then  they  went  crooked.  I  had 
some  looks  left  at  that  time  and  they  persuaded 
me  to  join  them  in  a  badger  game  against  a  rich 
old  guy.  But  we  got  caught  with  the  goods." 

"That,"  said  Captain  Anderson,  "is  how  I 
finally  got  hold  of  this  woman,  from  an  article  in 
the  paper,  which  said  her  name  was  formerly 
Melton.  That  charge  slip  I  just  showed  you 
gave  me  the  clue." 

The  woman  continued: 

"Well,  in  the  Tombs  the  medico  said  I  had  a 
punctured  lung  and  couldn't  live  long  in  that 
joint." 

Impulsively,  Phyllis  put  out  her  hand  in  sym 
pathy.  All  rancor  had  faded  from  her  heart.  A 
sister  was  in  distress. 

"You  poor  thing!"  she  cried. 

"Thank  you,  child.  So  I  sent  for  the  district 
attorney  and  came  through — made  a  deal." 

"You  mean  you  turned  state's  evidence?" 
asked  the  captain. 

"Something  like  that.  I  got  out  of  jail.  Pel- 
ham  and  Cullen  got  fifteen  years  up  the  river, 
and  I  hope  they  serve  every  day  of  it!" 

"So  do  I,"  said  Dudley. 

"Fifteen  years,  horrible!"  exclaimed  Phyllis. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  woman,  with  an  attempt 


322    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

at  humor  in  her  voice,  "their  previous  good  char 
acters  prevented  their  getting  thirty." 

"And  you?"  softly  inquired  the  bishop. 

"I,  oh,  I  hocked  the  few  remaining  jewels  I 
had  and  beat  it  out  to  Denver,  the  Mecca  of  rich 
tourists  and  busted  lungers.  You  can  see  I  am 
not  a  tourist,  and  I  won't  be  there  long.  Cap 
tain  Anderson  found  me  and  asked  me  to  come 
here.  It  wasn't  hard,  because  I  wanted  to  right 
the  wrong  I  had  done  before — I — went — away — 
for — good."  A  violent  spell  of  coughing  pre 
vented  further  utterance  for  the  moment. 

When  she  had  recovered  herself  Jack  Ander 
son  asked : 

"You  will  swear  to  all  this?" 

"On  a  stack  of  bibles  ten  feet  high." 

But  Dudley  was  satisfied.  In  his  heart  came  a 
feeling  to  which  he  had  been  a  stranger  for  many 
years — one  of  softness.  Mayhap  it  was  the  spirit 
of  his  own  lost  Mary  moving  him.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  he  turned  to  the  army  man  and  said : 

"That  will  not  be  necessary,  not  for  me.  Will 
it  for  you,  Bishop?" 

"No — the  truth  is  before  us — I'm  satisfied.  I 
only  wonder  such  things  can  be.  Is  it  possible, 
Madam,  that  such  things  are  done?" 

"Done!     Huh,  Bishop,  that's  not  a  circum- 


A  COMPLETE  EXHONERATION     323 

stance  to  some  stunts  pulled  off  in  the  name  of 
the  law.  I  guess  the  editor  knows." 

Uneasily,  Dudley  shifted  in  his  seat,  because 
he  remembered  only  too  well  the  "ill-legal"  trick 
he  had  been  trying  to  put  over  all  summer  in  his 
franchise  fight. 

"Where  is  this  Snodgrass?"  he  asked. 

"Snodgrass?  Oh,  he's  prosperous.  Opened  a 
branch  office  in  Chicago,  and  some  day  you  may 
see  his  shingle  hanging  out  here  in  Presidio.  He 
has  a  few  relatives  in  every  large  city." 

"I  hope  he  does  come  here,"  gritted  Dudley, 
"I'd  like  to  get  at  him." 

The  woman  smiled  sadly  and  looked  at  her 
auditors.  Her  work  was  done.  She  had  made 
all  the  amends  possible — now  it  was  over.  Her 
spirit  was  lighter. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  guess  I'll  go  back  to  the 
hotel  and  lie  down,  and  to-night — I'll  beat  it  back 
to  Denver.  I  am  glad  I  have  made  this  state 
ment." 

She  started  to  rise,  and  Captain  Anderson  im 
mediately  went  to  her  assistance.  Pausing  a  mo 
ment  in  front  of  Phyllis,  she  said: 

"Something  tells  me,  girlie,  you  are  going  to 
be  very  happy.  You  deserve  it  and  I  am  glad. 
Good-bye." 


324    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Phyllis  bowed  her  head  in  sympathy  and  tears 
filled  her  eyes.  "Oh,  I  wish  I  could  do  something 
for  you,"  she  whispered. 

"You  can,  girlie — give  me  a  kind  thought  once 
in  a  while — and — forgive  me  for  the  wrong  I  did 
you.  Good-bye."  Turning  to  Captain  Ander 
son,  she  said: 

"You  needn't  come  with  me.  My  taxi  is  out 
side." 

Then  came  the  remnants  of  the  old  chorus  girl 
spirit  of  raillery,  and,  as  she  slowly  went  out,  she 
slammed  back  at  the  army  man : 

"If  you  ever  get  tired  of  your  present  job, 
Captain  Anderson,  write  the  Police  Commis 
sioner  of  New  York;  he  needs  you  on  the  force. 
Good-bye." 

The  woman  was  gone. 

Turning  to  the  editor  and  his  brother,  the  cap 
tain  put  the  questions  fair  and  square: 

"Now  are  you  gentlemen  satisfied?" 

Both  men  were  beaten,  and  they  knew  it.  For 
an  answer  Dudley  took  up  the  telephone  and 
said : 

"Give  me  the  city  room."  After  a  short  wait, 
he  continued:  "That  you,  Bradford?  Kill  that 
C  are w- Anderson  story  and  return  all  copy  and 
proofs  to  me  at  once."  Slowly  he  hung  up  the 


A  COMPLETE  EXHONERATION     325 

receiver,  and,  looking  at  his  guests — for  such  the)' 
now  were,  he  said : 

"I  am  beaten — beaten  two  ways.  It  is  galling 
to  be  beaten  by  a  man,  but  to  be  beaten  by  this 
slip  of  a  girl,  fighting  alone  in  the  dark,  for  her 
honor — that  is  sublime,  and  I  bow  my  head. 
Bishop  Anderson,  you've  won;  Miss  Carew, 
you've  won,  and,  Captain  Anderson,  permit  me 
to  say,  yours  is  the  greatest  victory,  because  you 
have  won  a  prize  beyond  price — a  good  woman." 

The  whole  world  brightened  for  Jack  and 
Phyllis.  This  great,  strong  man,  this  indomi 
table  fighter,  this  representative  of  mighty 
power  admitted  his  error,  and,  admitting  it, 
James  Burchard  Dudley,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  became  a  real  man.  He  had  regained  his 
self-respect  and  he  would  keep  it. 

Bradford  brought  in  the  proofs  and  copy,  and, 
laying  them  before  the  editor,  said : 

''Here's  that  stuff,  Mr.  Dudley.  What  shall 
I  run  in  its  place  ?" 

Smilingly  the  editor  replied : 

"Run  a  biographical  sketch  of  Captain  Ander 
son.  Get  your  information  from  the  army  regis 
ter,  and  I'll  write  a  personal  note.  Use  the  half 
tone  you  had  for  the  other  article." 

"Yes,  sir,"  and  Bradford  bowed  his  way  out. 


326    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

Impulsively  Captain  Anderson  came  forward, 
and  grasped  the  editor's  hand. 

"Mr.  Dudley,  you're  a  brick!" 

"Thank  you,"  replied  the  editor,  biting  off  the 
end  of  a  big  black  cigar. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE    HATCHET   BURIED 

INTO  the  bishop's  mind  there  came  a  maze  of 
conjecture.  He  was  proud  of  his  brother;  he 
admired  the  girl  for  the  spirited  defense  she  had 
made — he  felt  that  he  was  under  many  obliga 
tions  to  her  for  the  part  she  had  played  in  the 
franchise  matter.  All  the  ammunition  he  had 
used  in  his  broadsides  at  Dudley  had  been  fur 
nished  by  Phyllis  Carew — erstwhile  Mary  Sher 
man.  Without  her  assistance  the  fight  would 
surely  have  been  lost,  and  to-day  there  would 
have  been  in  the  making,  many  counterparts  of 
the  man  Alberts  in  Presidio.  What  if  the  stock 
holders,  whose  very  existence  had  been  saved  by 
this  girl,  should  find  out  how  very,  very  much 
they  were  in  her  debt?  What  would  they  do? 
But  the  truth  would  never  be  known.  It  would 
be  better  so.  Otherwise,  her  story  might  become 
public  property  and  not  perfectly  understood. 

327 


328    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

This  would  result  greatly  to  her  injury.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  public  might  make  a  tremendous 
heroine  of  her — and  that  would  never  do. 

Dudley,  the  domineering  editor,  the  Big  Chief, 
the  man,  who,  in  days  gone  by,  would  stop  at 
nothing,  now  seemed  literally  born  again  out  of 
the  happiness  that  had  come  to  him  by  reason  of 
his  having  done  the  right  thing  at  last.  With  a 
feeling  of  grim  satisfaction  in  his  mind,  he  jok 
ingly  observed : 

"Bishop  Anderson,  I  fancy  that  even  in  your 
victory  you  have  been  defeated.  You'll  be  hav 
ing  a  ceremony  on  your  hands  that  you  had  made 
up  your  mind  not  to  perform." 

"Yes,  I  have  been  defeated,"  slowly  replied 

the  bishop.     "But "  here  the  bishop  buried 

his  face  in  his  hands  and  became  lost  in  thought. 
"The  church,  the  church,"  thought  he.  "What  of 
my  church?  What  will  become  of  me  if  I  go  be 
yond  its  rules  in  such  matters?  My  church  say- 
eth:  'Thou  shalt  not,'  therefore,  how  can  I  dis 
obey  her  commands?  Here  am  I,  faced  with  the 
problem  of  uniting  this  divorced  woman  to  my 
brother,  and,  as  yet,  the  records  of  the  courts  are 
against  her.  What  am  I  to  do? — I  know  not 
what  to  do!"  The  bishop  was  at  the  point  of  de 
spair.  Then,  suddenly,  the  still,  small  voice  of 


THE  HATCHER  BURIED  329 

reason  whispered  within  him.  It  seemed  to  ask 
the  vital  question:  ffls  the  church  always  right?3' 
As  if  to  answer  its  own  question  the  voice  from 
within  went  on  to  say:  "The  foundation  of  the 
Christian  church — no  matter  what  the  denomina 
tion — is  God.  None  but  the  atheist  denies  that. 
But  upon  that  foundation,  man — mere,  mortal, 
erring  man — has  builded  numerous  superstruc 
tures,  and  the  result  has  been  that  many  differ 
ent  denominations  have  sprung  into  being.  And 
in  these  man-made  edifices,  could  not  mistakes 
have  been  made  ?  Were  not  certain  laws  made  to 
fit  conditions  of  other  days  than  these?  Had  not 
he — the  bishop — said  to  Dudley,  the  only  Man 
who  never  made  a  mistake  was  crucified?  What 
would  that  Man  have  done  had  He  been  on  earth 
to  hear  this  woman's  story?  Would  He  have 
condemned  her?  Would  He  have  turned  His 
back  upon  her  and  said:  "You  are  unclean!— 
the  law  makes  you  so?"  Would  the  Man  whom 
the  bishop  had  quoted  as  saying :  "Let  him  who  is 
without  sin  among  you  cast  the  first  stone"  fur 
ther  torture  this  woman's  soul  by  reason  of  a 
man-made  law?  The  answer  came — it  came 
straight  from  Calvary's  Cross.  He  would  not. 
The  bishop  again  viewed  the  scene  he  had  so  beau 
tifully  described  in  his  sermons  many,  many 


330    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

times.  He  could  see  the  three  figures  impaled, 
crucified  on  the  three  rude  crosses.  He  could  see 
the  lowering  clouds,  the  hostile  legions;  he  could 
see  the  Roman  soldiers  stab  the  central  figure, 
from  whose  riven  side  gushed  forth  the  life  blood 
of  the  world.  Also  he  saw  the  crown  of  thorns, 
and  just  as  the  mortality  of  Him — the  carpenter 
of  Nazareth — took  on  immortality,  he  could  hear 
the  gentle,  quivering  voice  from  a  parched  throat 
murmur:  "Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do" 

There  was  a  tremendous  question  for  this 
Godly  worldly  bishop  to  answer,  but  it  came 
at  last,  and  in  no  uncertain  terms.  It  came 
like  a  ray  of  sunshine  breaking  through  the  clouds 
after  a  rain ;  when  every  iridescent  drop  becomes 
a  scintillating  gem  of  purest  ray  serene.  It  il 
lumined  his  soul;  it  warmed  his  heart  as  he  saw 
the  light.  The  man-made  laws  of  the  church 
might  be  wrong.  In  this  case  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt  must  be  given  to  the  woman. 

But  the  bishop  was  a  fighting  Anderson — of 
the  same  species  as  his  brother.  One  thing  would 
yet  would  save  his  face.  His  church  regarded 
this  woman  as  outside  of  the  pale,  so  far  as  mar 
riage  or  communion  were  concerned.  One  more 


THE  HATCHET  BURIED  331 

little  effort  he  would  make  to  save  the  tenets  of 
the  church. 

"Miss  Carew,"  queried  the  bishop.  "Would  it 
not  be  possible  for  you  to  return  to  New  York, 
reopen  this  case,  and  get  another  trial?" 

Jack  Anderson  answered  this  question  for 
Phyllis  Carew — and  he  wasn't  slow  in  doing  it. 

"Great  Caesar's  ghost,  Doc!  Are  you  utterly 
mad?  Go  back  there?  Kick  up  all  this  fuss 
again?  Spread  the  news  broadcast  again  in  or 
der  that  she  shall  ask  for  freedom  from  a  crook? 
Come — where's  that  sense  of  fair  play  you  preach 
about  ?  No,  sir,  not  in  a  thousand  years.  Phyllis 
is  free  and  she  stays  so  until  the  time  you — or 
some  other  preacher  make  her  mine" 

Phyllis  stood  by  the  captain's  side  waiting  for 
the  bishop's  reply.  She  did  want  to  be  married 
in  her  own  church,  but  if  the  bishop  remained  ob 
durate  she  would  not  hold  out  any  longer  against 
the  captain.  He  had  fought  hard,  proved  her  in 
nocence — she  would  go  with  him  hereafter. 

"But  the  church!"  faltered  the  bishop. 

"Any  church  that  refuses  to  sanction  this  mar 
riage,  Bishop  Anderson,  is  no  church  at  all.  Left 
to  your  members  they  would  vote  for  it  en 
masse."  This  from  the  domineering  editor. 

Then  came  the  thought  to  the  bishop,  "What 


332    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

right  have  I  to  judge?  There  has  been  no  sin 
on  the  woman's  part,  and  the  church  would  be 
wrong  not  to  consummate  this  union." 

The  sudden  appearance  of  Pat  Kearney  saved 
the  bishop  from  an  immediate  reply.  Kearney 
stopped  on  the  threshold. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Chief — I  thought  you 
were  alone."  He  turned  to  go. 

"Come  here,  my  boy,"  commanded  Dudley, 
and  the  tone  of  the  editor's  voice  made  Kearney 
pause.  Slowly  he  advanced,  and,  placing  a  sealed 
letter  on  the  desk,  said : 

"I  came  to  quit.    I  am  sick  of  the  whole  job." 

"What  is  this?"  asked  Dudley,  picking  up  the 
letter. 

"My  resignation." 

Without  breaking  its  seal,  Big  Chief  Dudley 
tore  the  letter  into  bits. 

"Your  resignation  is  not  accepted,  Pat,"  said 
he  calmly,  "I  need  you  more  than  ever.  Bishop 
Anderson  and  I  both  need  you" 

"Both  need  me!  You  mean  to  say  that  you 
have  quit  fighting  the  church?"  Kearney  could 
not  comprehend  such  a  flop  in  so  short  a  time. 

"I  have !"  Editor  and  cleric  were  now  smiling 
into  his  surprised  face. 

"The  millenium  has  arrived!"  snorted  Kear- 


THE  HATCHET  BURIED          333 

ney.  "Roaring  lions  all  summer,  and  now  meek 
lambs.  What  next,  I  wonder?" 

"This,"  continued  Dudley,  "I  want  you  to 
find  Mr.  Alberts." 

"I've  got  him  already,  Jim." 

"Good!  I  don't  suppose  he  will  want  to  see 
me,  and  I  don't  blame  him.  You  care  for  him 
while  he's  here,  and  when  he  is  rested  up,  go  with 
him  to  his  old  home.  Buy  back  his  farm  and 
hire  a  good  man  to  run  it.  Put  him  in  a  sani- 
torium  for  a  while ;  you  may  draw  on  me  for  any 
amount.  Whatever  it  requires  will  not  repay  him 
for  his  years  of  misery — but  it's  all  I  can  do.  I 
made  a  mistake.  I've  been  a  hard  man  in  my 
time — but  I'm  through!"  A  gorgeous  smile 
spread  over  Kearney's  face. 

"Jim,  when  it  comes  down  to  brass  tacks  you 
are  white  through  and  through.  I  am  going 
out  in  the  plant" — and,  shaking  hands  with  every 
body  he  left  the  room — too  near  unto  tears  of 
joy  to  say  more. 

Jack  and  Phyllis  stood  before  the  bishop. 

"Now,  Doc,"  asked  the  brother,  "what  is  the 
ecclesiastical  verdict?  Will  you  assist  Phyllis  in 
joining  the  Anderson  family?  Now's  the  time  to 
say!" 


334    THE  CASE  OF  MARY  SHERMAN 

The  bishop  arose  to  his  feet,  and,  bowing  low 
before  Phyllis,  replied : 

"Miss  Carew,  will  you  allow  me  the  honor  of 
performing  the  marriage  ceremony  between  you 
and  my  fighting  brother?" 

Jack  Anderson's  hand  came  down  with  a  re 
sounding  whack  on  the  bishop's  shoulder. 

"Good  boy,  Doc!"  he  cried,  "I  knew  you  would 
do  it."  Phyllis  answered  by  throwing  her  arms 
about  the  bishop's  neck. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  broke  in  Dudley,  "I  want 
to  be  in  on  this.  Miss  Sherman — I  beg  your 
pardon — Miss — er — Miss  Carew  is  my  secretary. 
I  claim  the  privilege  of  giving  the  bride  away." 

"And  you  shall  have  it,  Mr.  Dudley,"  replied 
the  now  happy  girl,  planting  a  kiss  upon  the 
broad,  upturned  forehead  of  the  editor,  who 
blushed  red  to  the  roots  of  his  scanty  hair.  But 
he  was  mightily  pleased  even  though  abashed  to 
the  point  of  wanting  to  run  away.  Jumping  to 
his  feet  he  looked  at  his  watch  hurriedly. 

"Why,  bless  my  soul,  it's  nearly  three  o'clock," 
said  he,  and  grabbing  his  hat,  shouted,  "come  on, 
Bishop,  let's  go  to  the  ball  game." 

"I'll  just  go  you  for  luck,  Dudley,"  replied  the 
bishop,  and,  arm  in  arm,  they  left  the  office — wise 
old  boys,  they! 


THE  HATCHET  BUklED          335 

Left  alone,  two  lovers  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes.  Two  soft  arms  stole  around  the  army 
man's  neck,  two  lips  were  raised  to  his. 

"I  love  you,  Jack." 

"And  I  love  you,  Phyllis."  Jack  Anderson 
did  not  wait  a  second  with  his  reply.  A  new  day 
had  dawned  in  his  life  and  that  of  the  charming 
girl  before  him. 

Two  days  later  Phyllis  Carew  became  Mrs. 
John  Edmond  Anderson,  and  when  Bishop  An 
derson  said:  "Whom  God  hath  joined,  let  not 
man  put  asunder,"  he  knew  that  here  was  one 
marriage  which  God  had  joined — after  many, 
many  trials  and  tribulations. 

Mother  Anderson,  through  her  tears,  ex 
claimed:  "Just  think,  I  am  seventy-six  and  once 
again  a  mother!" 


THE  END 


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